


Hearts of Ice

by evilwriter37



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Clara Oswin Oswald - Freeform, Gen, eleventh doctor - Freeform, inspired by nightmare in silver, mr. clever - Freeform, mr. clever is also a bastard, mr. clever is the eleventh doctor, mr. clever returns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-17 12:10:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 38
Words: 79,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3528914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwriter37/pseuds/evilwriter37
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something crawling through the Doctor's mind, something evil and familiar: Mr. Clever. Will he be able to fight him and keep a pregnant Clara safe? Or will he lose everything that matters to him in a frantic battle for his mind and body?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Doctor studied himself in his bathroom mirror and uneasily touched the left side of his face. Yes, just skin. Then why was his hand still shaking?

'It was just a dream,' he told himself. 'Only a dream.' Yet he remembered the feeling of metal under his fingers so vividly, the pain in his skull, the voice in his head. The green eyes staring back at him almost didn't seem to be his own.

'Don't be silly.' He shook himself to break the trance. 'The Cyber-Planner is gone. He's gone.'

"Doctor?" Clara's voice called from the hallway. "Doctor, where are you? Are you in there?"

The Doctor cursed under his breath. 'How did she find my bedroom? I'll have to move it again.'

He always kept the location of his bedroom hidden. Showing someone where he slept felt too personal. Well, it really depended on who it was. Maybe he would show Clara someday.

He rushed outside and slammed the door quickly, bumping into Clara, who looked like she had been ready to enter.

"Oh!" she exclaimed at seeing him. "I thought you were in there. Is that your bedroom?"

"Yes, and you are not allowed in." He snapped his fingers and was satisfied when he heard the lock click. He put an unconcerned smile on his face. "What is it, Clara? Do you have an idea of where you want to go today?"

"No, that's not – Well, actually, I was wondering if we could have a day off, if you know what I mean." She looked at him with those big pleading brown eyes, but…

"There are so many things to see and you want a day off? Are you feeling well, Clara?" Worry sparked inside of him and he pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, searching for a fever.

"Just kind of queasy and tired." She gently took his wrist and pulled his hand away. "Could we just hang out in the library?"

"No, missy." He grabbed her by the arm and started pulling her down the gray TARDIS hallway. "You're going to the infirmary, right now."

"Doctor!" Clara pulled away from him. "Don't go getting all worked up!"

"But, Clara, if something's wrong…" His voice was soft and caring. "Humans tend to fall ill quite often, and if it's serious-"

"It's not serious, Doctor. I'll be fine. I just need to rest a little bit." She seemed distressed by his concern. Was he overwhelming her? Then he felt a little angry. Why was she denying his care?

"But-"

"Doctor!"

"Fine, fine! Library it is!"

Irritated, he roughly grabbed her arm and continued dragging her down the hallway. Realizing what he was doing, he slowed down and loosened his grip. Being angry was not going to help Clara. Besides, he shouldn't take his frustration out on her. She could be stubborn if she wanted to.

"Is everything alright, Doctor?"

"Fine." He forced himself to relax even more and wrapped his arm around her waist, hoping it would feel comforting. He was feeling fine. He was okay. It had just been a dream.

'Then why is it still bothering me?' He resisted the urge to touch his face again, clenching his hand at his side. He would feel it if there was metal drilled into his face. It had covered most of the left side. The Cyber-Planner hadn't exactly been inconspicuous, especially with its continuously flashing blue lights.

When they reached the library, the Doctor decided to just find something simple to read, not really in the mood to read at all. He settled for a book on astrophysics while Clara was still searching. He flipped it open, but kept on glancing over at her as she browsed through the shelves. Strange how she could be so pretty from both the front and the back.

She came back around the shelves, having found something, and he quickly went back to reading, pretending he hadn't been looking at her.

Surprisingly, Clara cuddled up with him on the couch. He hadn't expected it after the tension in the hallway, but it was nice to have her with him. There had been a time when he had been completely alone and ready for death. But now he had someone, and a woman at that. He sighed contentedly.

'Ah, Clara. My Impossible Girl.'

A few minutes of silence passed before Clara closed her book with a prominent thunk. She turned so that she was no longer leaning on him, facing him, rather.

"Doctor, why have I never seen your bedroom?" she inquired.

"But you have."

"No. That was the door. I meant the inside."

"Why do you need to see the inside of my bedroom?" the Doctor asked, trying to reason out her curiosity.

"You've seen mine." She paused, thinking. "A lot. It just doesn't seem fair."

"I've lived over one thousand years, Clara. My bedroom is more personal than yours."

Her face fell as if she was offended. Then it turned into a look of anger and she crossed her arms over her chest.

"So, you basically just said that my life is nothing. My personality is nothing. Obviously it wouldn't be compared to you."

The Doctor's jaw dropped before he quickly composed himself.

"That's not what I meant! Why would you interpret it like that? I'm sorry!"

"Because you meant it, didn't you? Humans, we're such a small part of your life, aren't we?"

"No, Clara, of course not!" He scooted closer and placed his hands on her shoulders. "You mean so much to me. So much. You went into my own time stream to save my life. How am I going to dismiss that? And it's not just that. You're Clara. My Clara."

"Okay, I-I'm sorry. I don't know where that came from."

"It's okay." The Doctor pulled her into his arms. "I probably sounded insensitive."

Clara smiled wistfully with her head pressed against his chest.

"Maybe a little bit. But, will I ever get to see your bedroom?"

"Sometime, Clara. I promise."

"Alright, Mr. Clever."

The Doctor stiffened and his grip involuntarily tightened. That's what he had called himself.

"Clever Boy sounds better, alright Clara?" His voice was tenser than he wanted it to be.

"Alright. Everything okay, Doctor?"

"Yeah. All good on this end." He laughed nervously, but he made it sound casual and carefree. "How are you feeling, by the way?"

"Better with you here." She slid her arms around him. "I'm always better with my Doctor."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor takes Clara to Victorian London for a date.

Clara held up the corset and looked at it disdainfully. The Doctor was taking her to an inn in Victorian London where he had met her once – well, another version of her – and he insisted that they dress the part. She hadn't realized she would have to wear one of these.

'I'm never going to be able to get into this.'

"Clara, are you almost ready?" the Doctor called from outside.

"Um, no. Give me a minute!"

"Having trouble?"

"Not at all. Just-Just hold on!"

Without any knock or form of announcement, the door abruptly swung open to admit the Doctor. Clara yelped and sprang towards her bed, dropping the corset and grappling with her sheets to try to cover herself.

"Doctor! Would you knock next time?!"

He just grinned at her knowingly. "Corset giving you trouble?"

"Yes! Now get out!" She felt terribly embarrassed that he had just walked in on her.

"I could help." He lightly stepped towards her, the chain on his pocket watch dangling out of the pocket of his red waistcoat. The rest of his outfit, except for the red bowtie, was black: black trousers, black shoes, black tailcoat, and finally, a black top hat. Clara thought he looked dashing, but then felt more embarrassed by the fact that she couldn't get into her own clothes without assistance.

"But-"

"You know, women did need help getting into their corsets around that time."

"Why are you even making me wear one? Don't they hurt, or something?"

"Don't worry. You'll be fine. Just let me help." His green eyes pleaded with her. He really seemed desperate for this date.

"Fine," Clara grumbled, dropping the sheets and handing him the corset. She tried to ignore how his eyes searched her naked body. She had always thought that humans over sexualized nudity, but Time Lords… well, she had just been very unprepared.

"And you'll be good this time?" she asked, just to make sure. She wanted to go on this date too.

"Yes, yes," he insisted. "Now turn around, hands on the bedpost."

Clara did as he said, but was slightly suspicious.

"Is this really how you put on a corset?"

"Yes. It really is."

"Oh, 'cause it seems a lot like a – Oi!" She jumped and tried to playfully kick her feet at him, her left cheek burning. He dodged and laughed, but then started to wrap the corset around her front.

"Bloody Time Lords…" Clara muttered under her breath. She gasped as the Doctor tugged hard at the corset, starting to tie the laces.

"Ow! Does it have to be that tight? Ouch! Stop that!"

After about a minute of tugging, gasping, and protests, the corset was on. Clara found it a bit of a struggle to breathe. She leaned over the bedpost, panting.

"How did women wear these things?"

"Oh, it's not like you haven't worn one before," the Doctor said. "Now let me help you with your dress."

After much complaining, chasing, tugging, and laughing, Clara was finally dressed. She examined herself in the mirror. Gosh, she looked so thin! And her back was so straight!

"But what about my hair?" she realized, turning back to the Doctor. Her brown locks were still a damp mess from the shower she had taken earlier.

"I believe I can get that. Tried being a hair stylist one time." He started rushing around the room and picking up different objects while continuing to explain. "Interesting job. Met a lot of people, but the only excitement was when someone stole a birthday cake from the employee lounge." He gestured for her to sit in front of the mirror and set to work. She didn't even try to keep track of his movements. Besides, it was always interesting when he talked. She never knew what was going to come out of his mouth.

"One bloke insisted that I cut his hair when he didn't have any. Fixed that problem pretty quick. Some special shampoo and a sonic, and poof! Only, the hair wasn't just on his head. It was everywhere! Have you ever seen a blue alien with six arms suddenly turn into a giant blonde puffball? It was hilarious!"

"I can't picture you being a hair stylist," Clara commented.

"Why not?" The Doctor looked hurt by her remark. That's when she realized that he had finished. A braid curved around each side of her head and came into a bun in the back. He had arranged the rest of her hair around her shoulders in a splendid fashion. Running a brush through it had left it curled. The style matched perfectly with the red dress she was wearing.

"I, um, didn't mean that." Clara quickly stood and turned to face him. "You made me beautiful. Thank you."

He stroked her cheek with a hand.

"Oh, but, Clara, you were already beautiful." He didn't seem to understand how she felt on the matter.

"I know, well, sometimes." She took his hand and played with his long, slender fingers. "Society – human society – just has the most impossible standards of beauty, and I don't always feel like I match up."

"But Clara, you are impossible. My Impossible Girl, remember?"

She smiled, now feeling better. The Doctor always knew how to cheer her up.

"So, let's go have that date."

 

The Doctor made sure to be careful when setting the coordinates for the TARDIS. It wouldn't do any good if he crossed his own time stream, or Clara hers. There had been dreadful consequences when he had done that, forced to go to Trenzalore, the place where he was buried. That's when he had discovered why there were so many different versions of Clara.

After a bunch of wheezing and groaning, the TARDIS landed, and the Doctor popped his head out the door to see exactly where they were. He was met with a deserted brick alleyway and a blast of cold wind in his face.

'It must be autumn or winter.'

"You better have taken us to the right place," Clara said, coming over. "Brrr… It's freezing!"

"Come on. Let's go find that inn." The Doctor took her by the arm and together they left the TARDIS.

The cobblestone streets were frozen solid and they had to watch for ice. If any of the passerby, dressed in a similar fashion to them, suspected that they weren't from around there, they never said so. They were just given polite nods and greetings.

"Do you know where you're going?" Clara asked doubtfully, clinging to the Doctor's arm.

"Yes, of course. I lived her for quite a while at one point."

"Why Victorian London?"

"Mm… Never mind that. Here it is! The Rose and Crown!" He stopped outside a two story building with a nicely decorated sign above the door.

They went inside to find a brightly lit common room filled with round tables and chairs. A fire was blazing at the far end of the room, filling it with warmth.

"Is the food here any good?" Clara whispered.

"I came here sometimes when I got lonely. Just find us a table and I'll go talk to the innkeeper."

"Alright." She slipped away from him and he walked up to the front desk. A round, well-dressed man stood behind it. He tipped his hat towards the Doctor when he approached.

"Good afternoon, sir. What will it be for you and your lady friend?"

"Supper, please, and a, uh, room, if you don't mind."

"Of course." The man gave him a price and the Doctor easily paid. Being around for as long as he had gave him considerable access to many different forms of money.

The Doctor twirled, straightened his coat just for show, and made his way over to Clara, sitting down across from her. He was happy that they had finally come here. He had always wanted to show her where an older version of her had lived and worked.

"You look proud about somethin'," she said when he got himself settled. "Go on. What is it?"

"Does it matter what it is?" He flashed her a secretive smile. She wouldn't know that he had gotten them a room.

A pain sparked in the left side of the Doctor's face. He grimaced, but quickly turned it into a smile, not wanting to worry Clara. He was trying to give her a good time, and that would not be the way to do it.

'Why do you keep coming back?'

The pain gave no answer. How could it? It didn't have some kind of conscience.

'Oh, stop being paranoid,' he chided himself. 'You're fine.'

"So," Clara started, "There's no particular reason why you came to Victorian London?"

"No," he answered without pause, but that was a straight-out lie. There had been a few reasons. He had been depressed and Victorians were… interesting people.

When one of the serving women came over, she looked startled, nearly dropping her tray. Clara held out an arm to help her steady herself.

"You alright?" she asked.

"Oh, yes, fine." She set the tray down on the table. "You just look like a woman who used to work here. Clara Oswald, her name was."

Clara blinked in surprise, not sure what to do in this situation. The Doctor decided to step in.

"Oh? What happened to her?"

"She died two years ago," the woman began explaining. "Slipped and fell off a roof. Broke nearly all the bones in her body, I heard. Didn't die immediately, they say. Poor thing. Oh, I apologize for how I go on. I assume you want drinks with your meal?"

After they both ordered wine, the serving woman went to fetch it. Clara was arranging her plate in front of her, examining the food on it.

"Hm, steak, carrots, and potatoes. Not what I expected."

"And what did you expect?" the Doctor asked, picking up his silverware.

"Oh, I don't know. I'm just being silly, I guess." She paused, twirling her knife in her right hand and biting her lip in thought.

"We're not in your time stream again, are we?"

"No, no. I left after…" He lowered his voice, "you died."

"Why?"

"I realized that I had met you before and could probably find you again. I went searching. You were quite the mysterious case, Clara Oswald."

"And I'm not anymore?" She pouted in a way that made him glad he had gotten them a room. He couldn't help taking the time to admire her again. What that corset and low-cut bodice did to her chest…

The Doctor quickly directed his eyes back to her face. He didn't want to be caught staring, but the smile on her face said that she had noticed.

Her voice was lower when she spoke. "You nasty bugger."

"Clara Oswald! Where do you humans come up with such nasty words?"

"Oh, so you never swore when you were on Gallifrey?" She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Fine, I see your point."

After the meal, they were directed towards their room, Clara giving him a questioning look the whole while.

"Did you find the food to your liking?" the Doctor asked, taking off his coat and draping it over the one armchair in the room, his hat following suit.

"Yes, but…" She stopped. "I see what you're doing."

"And are you okay with it?" The Doctor went up to her and kissed her on the lips, curling his fingers in her hair.

Clara pulled away before he could add his tongue to the process.

"Doctor, you'll ruin it," she said breathlessly.

"Well, it's not going to last forever anyway." He let his fingers run through it and came close again. "Besides, I do tend to ruin quite a lot of things."

"I hope you don't mean this dress, after all the trouble it took to get into it."

"But it could come off…" His hands went to the buttons of her bodice.

"Oi!" She slapped his hands away.

"Oh, quit fussing!" the Doctor exclaimed. "Do you want to do this or not?"

"Well," she mused, turning to sit on the bed, "put me in the mood."

"What's wrong with you humans, always having to be in the mood?"

"Oh, so Time Lords can just…" She paused to search for a word, "shag anyone any one whenever?" She raised her eyebrows pointedly.

"No, but, you don't want to?"

"I do, but," Clara wiggled her shoulders, "just make me feel it."

"Well, I feel like you're intentionally ruining it." The Doctor pointed a finger accusingly.

"Fine." She crossed her legs and tilted her head. "Maybe I am."

"Why? Do you want me to fix it because that's what I do?" He sat down in the armchair and crossed his arms stubbornly. "Why don't you fix something?"

The Doctor and Clara sat in complete silence for a few minutes, she chewing on her lip and he tapping his feet.

Clara sighed heavily and rose, the folds of her skirts whispering together when she did.

"I'm sorry."

The Doctor grunted when she unexpectedly sat down in his lap.

"I suppose you can ruin my hair and rip off my dress."

"Don't over-romanticize it," the Doctor said sarcastically, running his hands over, (in his opinion,) her perfectly rounded hips. She wiggled her bottom against him and he groaned appreciatively, his trousers starting to feel all too tight.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

"Mmm… Now you're doing it, Clara."

"Am I?" She twisted around and took his chin in her left hand, bringing his lips to hers. The kiss was much more inviting than the one they had had earlier. "That's good. Anything you want to show me, Doctor?"

"Be patient, Clara," he chided, gliding a hand up her stomach to touch her breast.

She arched into his hand and smiled. "Alright. I don't know how you're being patient, being the depraved man you are." She wiggled her bottom again for emphasis.

The Doctor ran his hand up to her neck and let his fingers dance across her throat. He then took her chin and directed her mouth to his. Adding his tongue to it made Clara melt against him. After a few moments, he trailed his lips down to her neck and then her breasts, very nicely exposed by the dress.

"Victorian clothing looks lovely on you, Clara," he said with a smirk. "But, can it come off now?"

"Yes, fine."

 

Clara had long ago discovered that sex with the Doctor could be rather strange, and this time was no different.

He started by tying her hands behind her back, laying her down on the bed, and spanking her. She had the urge to tease him about it, the pain arousing her for some reason.

"Is this all you're going to do to me?"

The Doctor's only response was a growl, but it seemed to be an acceptance to the challenge. He rubbed the tip of his hard length against her opening and spanked her again. Clara whimpered, just realizing how badly she needed him.

And now his fingers were tickling her there…

"Do you want me, Clara?"

"Yes." The response was a breathless moan.

He tugged sharply on her hair.

"I didn't hear you. Speak up."

"Please, Doctor." Her voice was stronger.

"Please, what?" He tugged on her hair again, making her scalp sting.

"I need you! Please!"

"Ah, good girl."

The Doctor leaned over her to press himself against her back, his hands traveling up and down her body. His lips touched her neck for a bare instant. She squirmed underneath him, desperate for him to pleasure her.

"Oh, Clara, you are just so sexy." The low rasp of his voice gave her shivers.

And suddenly, he entered her. Not slowly, but hard and fast. She cried out and twisted her body at the sensation, but he held her firmly to the bed, rising off of her to stand.

It took Clara a moment to realize that he had continued thrusting without pause, but soon she was moaning with each movement.

The Doctor was yelling and panting, which wasn't a surprise to Clara. He had told her a while back that his nervous system had a higher functioning capacity than a human's, meaning he felt each sensation so much more than they did. This was probably a blast for him.

He slowly came to a stop, pulling out of her and gasping.

"I think I want to see your face now."

"Oh…" Clara sighed. "Good. I want to see yours too."

They looked at each other often while doing this, staring into each other's eyes as they moaned and gasped. It was the most deeply intimate thing Clara had ever experienced.

She was untied and flipped onto her back, and she couldn't help admiring the Doctor, her Doctor. He was beautiful naked. Bony, but beautiful. His pale skin was completely flawless and smooth, much unlike a human's. And the tool he boasted below the waist!

Clara and the Doctor took a moment to stare at each other before they resumed, smiling and in awe with each other's bodies. She felt privileged to be the lover of a being such as him, the last of a completely different and greater species. She was only human, yet here he was sharing this experience with her.

This time when he entered her, the thrusting was slower. It gave them each a better opportunity to watch the other's expressions.

"T-That feels s-s-so g-good, Doctor," Clara managed to stutter. She cried out when he hit a spot that felt particularly good.

"I would – hope so." He groaned loudly and picked up the pace, seemingly unable to help himself.

"Yes, Doctor! That is fantastic! Oh!"

He started repeating her name, over and over, like some adoring sexual chant. It nearly drove her over the edge.

The rest of the afternoon went on like that, the Doctor making each new position naughtier and even more fulfilling than the last. When they finished, Clara's muscles were screaming with tension and fatigue, her mind clouded with the pounding remnants of the pleasure she had just experienced.

The Doctor flopped down on the bed next to her, panting and covered in a sheen of sweat.

"I thought that was a good date," he commented breathlessly.

"That's quite an understatement." Clara rolled onto her side and kissed him on the cheek. "Good job, Clever Boy, but now the human needs some sleep."

She fell unconscious feeling comforted and safe, a smile on her face. She was with her Doctor.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor remembers the Cyber-Planner invading his head.

The Doctor didn't have time to prepare himself for the pain. One second the Cybermites were climbing up his body, and the next they were in his head, burrowing and drilling. He thrashed violently as the pain increased, clawing through his skull. He realized in a moment of hot, churning panic that they were going to reach his brain. Through the agony, the only scream he could manage was choked and strangled. It felt like decades – as if the pain was being dragged out forever – but it was only a matter of seconds before it was done. And then he was gone, thrown into the confines of his mind. He felt violated, as if there was something else in his brain, another being controlling his body rather than him. He couldn't feel the pain anymore, but he wasn't sure whether that was good or bad.

And then he heard his voice, but it wasn't him speaking. He had no control whatsoever.

"Incorporated, yes. Unfamiliar pulmonary setup, nervous system hyper-conductive. Remarkable brain processing speed!" There was a laugh that was too cold to be his own before the speaking resumed. "Amazing!"

There was a flash of pain, like an electric shock, and he was back in control of his body. He knew there was someone else there.

"Get out of my head!" Another shock and he was in his head again, but this time he wasn't alone. He was facing somebody, a version of him with the metal drilled into his face. For some reason, he felt wrong.

"Stop rummaging in my mind!"

The new version of him spoke, just as images started flashing in the background, like a big holographic screen.

"Just you try and stop me." He turned to look at one of the images: Clara when he had met her in Victorian London. "Ooh, who's Clara? Why are you thinking about her so much?"

Anger boiled inside of the Doctor and he quickly shut down the image.

"Enough." He made the word a demand.

The other version of him, (he was thinking of calling him Metal-Face,) looked around in awe before directing his gaze back to him.

"Fascinating. A complete mental block; highly effective."

Metal-Face seemed as if he was going to continue, but there was another electric shock. He vanished, once again in control of the body. The Doctor fought to throw him out, but in vain. Metal-Face began to speak when he did.

"Relax! Relax. If you relax you will find this a perfectly pleasant experience. You are being upgraded and incorporated into the Cyberiad as a Cyber-Planner."

With a sudden shock, the Doctor was thrown back into control of his body, stumbling to catch his balance.

"Get out of my head!"

In an instant, he was shoved back into his mind, facing Metal-Face the Cyber-Planner. Behind him, he could see what looked like some kind of web, dotted with blue flashing lights.

"What is this place?" He quickly began putting it together. "A network? A hive? You're getting signals from every Cyberman everywhere." Dread filled the pit of his stomach. "How many of you are there?"

Metal-Face's only response was a smile, and then the Doctor was left alone with someone else controlling his body.

The first thing Metal-Face did was laugh. "Oh… This is brilliant!" he sang. "I'm so clever already and now I'm a million times more clever, and what a brain!"

At that comment, the Doctor began to fight for control again. No one should be able to have his brain except him.

"Not a human brain. Not even slightly human."

The Doctor winced at that, still grappling for control. Sometimes he did not think so highly of humans, and it made him feel guilty. There was nothing wrong with being human.

"I mean, I'm gonna have to completely rework the neural interface," Metal-Face continued.

'Hey!' Angered by this, the Doctor fought harder, but was shoved backwards as Metal-Face kept speaking.

"But, this is going to be, the most efficient, Cyber-Planner! Not a great name that, is it? I could call myself, Mr. Clever."

'That's not such a great name either,' the Doctor thought. It did sound sinister for some reason though.

"So much raw data. Time Lords. There's information on the Time Lords in here." Mr. Clever's voice lowered drastically. "Oh… This is just dreamy."

With a yank, the Doctor pulled Mr. Clever back into his mind. He needed to find a way to fix this.

"Right, I'm allowing you access to memories on Time Lord regeneration." The Doctor let his previous faces show in the background, making sure to keep other information about himself locked and hidden. If he found out what he was capable of…

Mr. Clever laughed in delight.

"Fantastic!"

"I could regenerate now," the Doctor lied smoothly. This was his last body and he knew it. "Big blast of regeneration energy, burn out any little cyber widgets in m'brain, along with everything you're connected to. Don't want to. Use this me up, eh, who knows what we'll get next? But I can."

He paused, realizing that he had just said, 'we'. Why had he said that? Mr. Clever was completely separate from him, wasn't he?

And then Mr. Clever was gone, back in his body.

"Stalemate, then. One of us needs to control this head. We're too well balanced."

The Doctor pushed Mr. Clever away and forced his way back into his body. The electric shock that accompanied it was more painful than the previous ones.

"No, no, no, no, no. No. I heard you. Rhetorical device to keep me thinking about it a bit more. Stalemate!"

The next shock was so white-hot and agonizing that it caused his body to go limp and nearly fall over. He was thrown back into his head with Mr. Clever.

"We each control 49.881 percent of this brain," Mr. Clever stated, drawing the Doctor's attention to him. ".238 of the brain is still in the balance. Whoever gets this gets the whole thing."

"Do you play chess?" the Doctor asked, thinking he might have a way to resolve this.

"The rules of chess are in my memory," Mr. Clever replied. "Perhaps you're proposing we play chess to end the stalemate?"

'Wait, he just said my memory. But that's mine! He stole it! Or maybe it's our memory.' The Doctor was beginning to get a feeling that he and Mr. Clever really were the same person. Despite the disturbing thought, he spoke without pause.

"Winner takes all. Nobody can access that portion of the brain without winning the game." He reached out a hand, wishing to have a formality to seal the compromise.

When they shook hands, there was another electric shock. Mr. Clever had the body again, but only long enough for one statement.

"You can't win!"

The Doctor painfully grasped control of his body.

"Try me."

In an instant, Mr. Clever was back.

"You understand, when I do win, the Cyberiad gets your brains and memories. All of it."

The Doctor felt a surge of determination as he took back control of his body.

"Yeah? When I win, you get out of my head. You let the children go. And nobody dies. You got that? Nobody dies!"

 

The Doctor jerked awake and sat up, gasping and looking around.

"Doctor?" Clara stood next to him, looking concerned. She was wearing a blue one-piece bathing suit and her skin glistened with water.

"Everything alright?"

"Yes, yes. Fine." The Doctor rubbed at his face, trying to bring himself back to reality. He remembered where he was now. He had taken Clara to a beach on a planet that he had only visited once before. The sand and rocks were a mix of purple and orange and the water was green. At first, Clara had been doubtful of its cleanliness, but he had assured her that it was fine.

"Bad dream?" She sat down next to him in the sand.

"Yes. Now, when did I fall asleep?"

"You've been out for almost an hour. I didn't want to wake you 'cause you looked tired," Clara explained. "Though, I was a bit afraid you might get a sunburn."

"Clara, I'm a Time Lord! I don't get sunburns!" the Doctor exclaimed. He was trying hard not to act shaken from the dream. Why was his subconscious always going back to Mr. Clever? He was gone. He had fried him out of his head with an electromagnetic pulser.

"Have you been getting enough sleep lately?" Clara asked. "You still look tired."

"Nah. Nightmares. I didn't sleep last night." The Doctor found himself responding truthfully before he even thought about it. He shouldn't be worrying Clara over something so stupid.

"What about?" She came close so that her wet skin touched his.

"Nothing. It's stupid."

"Come on. Tell me." She nudged him playfully.

"No." He turned his face stubbornly away from her, watching the waves as they rolled up onto the colorful sand.

"Do I have to force it out of you?" One hand settled on his thigh.

"Clara…" the Doctor warned. He was hoping her plan wouldn't work, because it was quite obvious what her plan was.

"Yes, Doctor?"

He glanced at her, but then grunted and turned his head away again, crossing his arms. He was determined not to tell.

"Come on." Her fingers danced up his thigh.

"No. Stop patronizing me."

"I'll stop when you'll tell me."

"But I won't tell."

"Okay." She promptly grabbed his crotch.

He gasped and tried to swat her hand away, but she took him off guard by shoving him into the sand with her on top of him. Her fingers squeezed and he groaned, turning his head away from her. He was now fighting with the terrible thoughts that were emerging in his head.

"Now will you tell me?"

The Doctor growled in frustration and flipped them over. She seemed surprised by the sudden movement.

"You think you can dominate me, do you? I'll show you what domination is."

He took her lips in his and kissed her roughly, his hands trailing up and down her body.

'This cursed bathing suit! Why did she have to wear a one-piece?'

Pain sparked in the Doctor's face and he quickly released Clara, his hand flying to the left side.

"Ow! Ow!"

Clara sat up as he stumbled away from her.

"Doctor, what is it?"

"I-I got sand in my eye," he lied, rubbing at his eye and hoping it would look irritated. He lowered his hand and gave Clara an apologetic smile. "Sorry. All gone now."

He couldn't tell whether or not she was buying it, but that quickly became irrelevant when she came forward and kissed him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor dreams about Mr. Clever.

"Would you like to make the first move, Doctor?" Mr. Clever sat across from him and crossed his legs, folding his hands in his lap. A chessboard sat on the table between the two of them.

"We already finished the game," the Doctor stated smugly. "And I won."

"Perhaps. Would you like to play again?" Mr. Clever gestured to the board.

The Doctor leaned close, placing his hands on the table.

"Why should I?"

"You like being victorious. Would you like to beat me a second time?" One of his hands idly played with a chess piece.

"You're gone. I can't beat someone who no longer exists."

"Oh, that's not very nice." Mr. Clever shook his head. "Ignoring me, are you? I suppose I'll go first, then." He took one of the black pawns and moved it forward, then looked expectantly at the Doctor. "Your turn."

"No. What if I refuse to play?" He leaned back in his chair.

"Oh? I thought you liked chess."

"I've tired of the game."

"Make your move."

"Fine." The Doctor swept his arm across the board, the chess pieces scattering to the floor. "There. Your turn."

"Hm… Okay."

Mr. Clever suddenly leaped over the table, knocking it to the side and shoving the Doctor to the floor. He grabbed his hair and yanked.

"Pick them up."

The Doctor struggled against him, trying to get free.

"No. Get off of me."

"Promise to pick them up first."

The Doctor got a hand free and grabbed at the metal on Mr. Clever's face. He tugged on it in an attempt to hurt him.

Mr. Clever screamed in rage and pain, releasing his hair and going for his neck.

"Trying to win, Doctor?" They struggled briefly and Mr. Clever pulled his hand off of his face. "Trying to beat me? Then pick up the pieces."

"If you're so eager to play, why don't you do it?" the Doctor choked out.

Mr. Clever growled in frustration and stood, brushing himself off.

"So stubborn, Doctor. So, so, stubborn." Surprisingly, Mr. Clever stuck out a hand to help him up."

The Doctor hesitated, but took it. There was an electric shock, and he was gone.

 

The Doctor studied the white, stone chess piece in his hand, then gazed at the board, dusty from lack of use. After the incident with the Cyber Planner, he had stowed it in a small room and had told the TARDIS to make sure he didn't find it unless he wanted to. This was the first time he had entered the room since putting it in there.

This dream had disturbed him much more than the others. Why did the Cyber-Planner want to play chess with him again?

"You're gone." His voice didn't sound all that reassuring in the silence.

The Doctor hefted one of the black pieces in his hand and studied it. Black had been the side Mr. Clever had played.

'But am I so different? Wouldn't either color suit me?'

The Doctor knew he wasn't all good. He wasn't all bad either though. He was two opposites shoved into one body, always warring in his head. Two voices, constantly jabbing at each other. He tried to let the good win, but sometimes…

He put the white piece down and pressed the black to the left side of his face, where the metal had been.

"Why do you antagonize me?" He wasn't sure what he was addressing, but his mind gave him an answer.

'Because I always do.'

'Stop it. I don't appreciate it.'

'Of course you do. Where would you be without me?'

The Doctor ground his teeth and gave no reply, so the other side of him kept quiet.

"You want to play, Mr. Clever?" he asked. "No? Good. Because you're not in my head anymore."

He put the piece down and left the room, slamming the door behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara is moody while she's on a date with the Doctor.

"Clara, are you ready to go?"

"Just give me a minute." She took a deep breath, trying to quell her nausea. It had appeared first thing she woke up, and was just now starting to go away.

"You're always saying that!"

She smiled at that, standing and brushing off her skirt.

"Good. You're too impatient!"

Clara left the bathroom and found the Doctor sitting on her bed, tapping his feet and fiddling with his fingers.

"You're anxious to go," she noted.

"Yes, I want to move around. You?"

"Why not?" Really, she was tired and wanted to get back in bed, but she decided she would humor him.

"Good. I landed while you were getting ready." He rose off the bed and slipped his arm around her waist. Together, they left her room and arrived in the console room.

"So, where are we?"

"A planet called Ganjora. It should be interesting. There's supposed to be a double lunar eclipse tonight."

"Double?"

"The planet has two moons. Also, I figured you would be fascinated by the blue sun."

"And what do the people who live here look like?"

"Oh, you'll see."

They stepped out of the TARDIS into warm blue light. Everything was tinted blue by it, and when Clara looked up, she was met with the blinding glare of the flaring blue sun.

The TARDIS had landed in the middle of a street, and Clara and the Doctor were surrounded by a crowd of strange beings. Some of them had purple, scaly skin while others were green and blue. They resembled humans, but they had two sets of arms rather than one, and their irises took up the whole eye.

They made a series of croaking and clicking noises, trying to reach out and touch them or the TARDIS.

Clara backed against the doors, not liking all the scaly fingers reaching out for her.

"Doctor, what are they saying?"

"Don't worry," he assured her. "They're just curious. It's not every day a Time Lord visits." He hugged her close, then looked at her closely. "I wonder if the translation matrix is broken. I'll have to check it out later."

The creatures suddenly shuffled backwards, looking at them in disapproval and clicking in irritation.

The Doctor made a few noises back and they seemed to relax a little.

"What is it?"

"I forgot. They're not very comfortable with public displays of affection."

All of a sudden, Clara felt despairing, like she wanted to cry.

"How are we supposed to have a date, then?"

"We will. Come on."

The Doctor snapped his fingers to lock the TARDIS doors and led Clara through the crowd.

They completely stood out on the street, made of some type of strange stone. They passed what looked to be shops and cafés, the scaly people moving about and talking to each other with clicks and croaks. It was odd not seeing anyone holding hands or being close to each other. She was grateful that the Doctor kept his fingers interlocked with hers.

"Are you hungry?" he asked. "I'll buy you something."

Before she could protest, the Doctor pulled Clara into one of the cafés and sat her down at a table near the window. Though she had been sick to her stomach before, she felt like she could eat anything. She was excited to try some of the food here.

A green-scaled server came over and started up a conversation with the Doctor, seemingly delighted to have them there. She found it annoying that they were speaking in a language she couldn't understand and almost asked for them to speak English. She was glad she stopped herself, realizing that that would be terribly rude. Why was she feeling so annoyed all of a sudden?

"Doctor, are you going to order?"

He glanced at her, raising his eyebrows at her interruption, but then said, "Yes, sorry." He then went back to clicking with the server.

Clara leaned her head on her hand and no longer paid attention. She couldn't understand them anyway.

After the server left, the Doctor turned to her and took the hand she had lazily placed on the table.

"Everything alright, Clara?" His thumb stroked the back of her hand. "You seem rather annoyed."

"I'm fine," she responded. "Just… not in the best of moods."

"Why?" The Doctor's brows furrowed.

Clara shrugged. "Don't know. Just might be nearing that time of the month."

"Ick." The Doctor stuck out his tongue in disgust, but didn't let go of her hand. "I feel so bad for women sometimes."

"Have you ever regenerated as a woman?" she asked. It was a question she had been meaning to ask him.

"No. Always wanted to be one though. And a ginger. Never been a ginger."

Clara laughed, her irritation fading away. "Why don't you just dye it?"

"Because it's not natural! Have you ever dyed your hair?"

"Well, I was kind of rebellious as a teenager. Dyed it blue one time."

"Blue?" The Doctor looked astounded.

"You've traveled the universe and you think blue hair is strange?"

Their drinks arrived and the server looked bothered that they were touching. He made a few croaks and the Doctor responded, sounding apologetic. He let go of Clara's hand.

"What was that about?" she asked curiously after the server left.

"He said that if we continued physical contact, he would have to kick us out."

"Why are they so adamant about it?" Clara was slowly growing annoyed again. How could people live like this?

"It's not decent in their society," the Doctor explained, though he looked upset about it too. "Don't worry. I'll find us a private place to watch the eclipses." He flashed her a winning smile.

Clara took a sip of her drink and was greeted with a foreign, bubbly sweetness on her tongue. The liquid was pink and carbonated. She couldn't determine what it was, but at least it was good.

"How has the planet not burned up if the sun is so hot?" Clara asked as she put down her glass, remembering a distant high school science lesson. "Blue is the hottest, right?"

The Doctor swallowed his drink and nodded.

"Mm, yes. The sun is farther away than the one near Earth, so distance makes up for heat."

It wasn't long until their meal arrived, and Clara liked the food, which she found a bit odd. She didn't usually like anything that was tangy or spicy.

After the meal, the Doctor took Clara to an art museum, claiming that Ganjorii art was almost as good as Gallifreyan. Clara had never seen either before, but she was excited.

The different paintings almost seemed to be moving when looked at from far away. Closer inspection revealed that to be an illusion, but she couldn't figure out how it worked. She asked, but the Doctor seemed to think she would like it better left as a mystery. He explained that mysteries could sometimes be more enjoyable than truth.

It was hard for Clara to resist holding his hand. Every time she reached out, she quickly remembered she shouldn't and brought her arm down with a scowl. The Doctor was ignoring this, skipping around and leading her through the museum in excitement. Clara admitted that it was fantastic, but she was tired of the no PDA rule. The Ganjorii they passed gave them suspicious looks that very pointedly said, 'Don't touch each other.'

Finally, Clara couldn't take it anymore. She groaned in annoyance and grabbed his hand.

"Oi, watch it, Clara!" He tried pulling his hand away, but she held on.

"I'm sick of this!" she cried, snuggling close to him. "Kiss me."

"Clara, we'll get kicked out," he said, looking around nervously. They were alone in the gallery.

"So? Let's get kicked out and find somewhere private." She released his hand to reach down and touch his butt.

"Clara!" He swatted her hand and shoved her away, knocking her into a wall. "What has gotten into you?!"

"Nothing. I just-" She found herself tearing up and she wiped her hand across her face. "You just threw me into a wall…"

"Clara, I'm sorry." He came close to her, but made sure not to touch her. "Are you okay?"

She nodded her head and sniffled, feeling silly for crying.

"You know. Girl stuff. It makes me act really weird."

"Okay. How about we go somewhere else? There's a forest a little ways from here where we can relax."

"Sounds good."

They left the museum and navigated their way out of the town, the Doctor stopping and asking for directions once in a while. After some time, they found the forest he had spoken of. The trees were tall, their trunks white and the leaves a mixture of blue and teal.

"It's beautiful, Doctor," she breathed, taking his hand as they walked through the trees. "I've always wanted to see a planet with a blue sun." She chewed on her lip, having a question, but contemplating whether or not she should ask it. The Doctor was always sad when he talked about his planet.

"What color was Gallifrey's sun?"

He got a distant look in his eyes and curled his lips in a frown.

"Orange. And we had two." He fell into a glum silence after answering, and Clara quickly regretted asking.

After a while, she said, "I'm sorry, Doctor."

"Don't apologize for being curious," he chided. "Where would we be without curiosity?"

He sat down beneath a tree, pulling her with him and wrapping his arms around her.

"Is this better?"

"Yes, thank you. I'm sorry I've been a bitch."

"Hey, don't degrade yourself like that! You're fantastic no matter what you do."

"You would argue with me if I said the same about you."

"That's because I…" He trailed off, but then continued, obviously feeling uncomfortable. "I killed my own people I have many names Clara, but the Slaughterer of Ten Billion Souls is the worst… And the most accurate."

"That was a long time ago, Doctor," Clara said, wishing to make him feel better. "You had no other choice.

"Sometimes I wonder if I did. Maybe I didn't look hard enough. Maybe there was something I missed."

Clara didn't know what to say in response. The Doctor rubbed irritably at the left side of his face. He had been doing that a lot lately. She was worried about him, but it was nearly impossible to force an answer out of him when he wanted to withhold it. She wished she could ask River how she had gotten something as personal as his name out of him.

It's probably better that I don't know. River had seemed like a very… interesting woman.

Clara started thinking about how sad his life was. He was over one thousand years old and had lost many people: friends, his wife, his whole race.

"Does having people with you make it better?"

"Well, why do you think I have people with me?" he responded.

"Your companions, we're not pets, are we?"

The Doctor frowned, seeming to have an internal argument with himself. He didn't answer, which didn't make Clara feel that well assured.

After some silence, he twisted his body and kissed her.

'Finally!'

Clara kissed back with eagerness, trying to press her tongue into his mouth, but he fought back, quickly dominating her and exploring her mouth. She was breathless after he pulled back, but had a question.

"What do you find attractive about me?"

The Doctor pushed her back against the tree and settled himself on top of her. He took her chin in one hand and tilted her head to the side to gain access to her neck.

"That's what you're asking me?" He bit at her skin.

Clara gasped, then said, "Yes."

"Well…"

"Tell me the truth." She had come to learn when he was formulating a lie.

He released her chin and ran his fingers through her hair, nibbling on her earlobe.

"Hm… You might not be happy with me." He tickled his tongue around her ear.

"How could I not be happy with you?" she sighed, shifting a little closer to him.

"I didn't, um, necessarily start having sex with you because I was attracted to you."

"What?" Clara would have felt angry, but her mind was clouded.

"I wasn't sure what you were, so I, uh… thought I might explore and find out."

"Doctor!" He began kissing the side of her jaw to quell her anger. She tried facing him, but he grabbed her chin and twisted her head away.

"I came to like you," he continued, kissing her neck near her throat. "I love my Clara. My sweet, sweet Clara."

"That sounds awfully possessive."

"That's because you're mine." His voice was low and gravelly, and Clara found it undeniably sexy. He forced her to tilt her head the other way and started nibbling at the skin of her neck. She moaned and pulled at his hair.

"Ow!" She flinched and the Doctor pulled back.

"Sorry," he said wistfully. She could feel a small trickle of blood going down her neck. "I didn't mean to bite that hard."

"Oh, yes you did. It's not the first time you've done it." Clara suddenly felt uncomfortable, but he was a different species, so…

"Do I taste good?"

The Doctor's face flushed and he looked embarrassed.

"Is it a bad thing if you do?"

"Maybe…" And then as a joke, "You're not planning on eating me, are you?"

He shook his head and laughed. "No, Clara. You're funny."

"You can, um, have more if you want." Now she was terribly uncomfortable, but if it made him happy…

The Doctor started leaning forward, but hesitated. "You sure?"

"Go ahead." Her voice was small as she realized what was going on. She was letting an alien, a strange, much older man have some of her blood while they were alone in a forest on another planet. And she was only a human, and a woman at that.

Her breathing accelerated and her chest heaved. She felt horribly vulnerable, one of the only times she had felt like this with the Doctor. But she didn't stop him as he put his mouth to the small cut on her neck. He kept one hand on her chin to keep her head in place and the other gripped her waist.

The Doctor flicked his tongue out and rolled it slowly around and through the cut, causing it to sting. Clara held tightly to him and whimpered when his teeth connected with her skin again, widening the small wound.

Though it hurt, Clara admitted to herself that she was becoming more comfortable with this. It was much more intimate and erotic than she had expected.

"Mm… Clara…"

He sucked at the wound and she involuntarily tried to pull away from him. He growled as a warning and shoved his teeth in. She cried out and whimpered, her fingernails digging into his neck.

"You are such an animal, Doctor," she gasped.

"Aren't we all?" He continued licking at the wound, causing her to whimper even louder. He seemed to like the sounds it brought out of her, but soon, she couldn't take it anymore and gave a sharp cry.

He took that as a sign to pull away. He was breathing hard and his lips were stained red.

"Sorry." He licked his lips clean and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "I'll fix it." He placed a hand on her neck. There was a soft golden glow and the pain vanished.

"I didn't know you could do that," Clara commented.

"Not really supposed to," he told her. "But, thanks… for, you know."

Clara didn't know how to respond, but she didn't have to. The Doctor came forward and swallowed her lips with his.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Clever has returned to the Doctor's mind.

Mr. Clever was sitting waiting for him, kicking one foot impatiently. The table, chairs, and chess pieces had been fixed and straightened.

"Well, you took enough time wandering around," Mr. Clever said. "Come." He tapped a hand on the table. "Sit."

The Doctor remained standing, walking closer to the Cyber-Planner.

"What do you want?"

"Isn't it obvious? I want to play a game with you."

"What kind of game?" The Doctor stepped closer and loomed over him.

Mr. Clever seemed calm in his shadow.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Doctor. Did you go blind?" He gestured at the chessboard.

"There has to be something on your mind other than chess."

"And what about you, Doctor? Are you thinking about anything else? Your human pet, Clara, I think, yes?"

"How do you know that?" Anxiety was growing in the Doctor's stomach. Was Mr. Clever just guessing? Or did he really know what he was thinking?

"Quite obvious." He examined his nails in a bored manner. "Finished copulating with her, did you?"

"That's private!" the Doctor snapped.

Mr. Clever shrugged, then glanced at him.

"Now, please sit. Seeing you so close is hurting my eyes."

The Doctor grumbled something unintelligible and turned to sit.

"We have the same face," he retorted once he was settled.

"Do we?" Mr. Clever leaned forward and tapped the metal on his face. "You seem to be absent of accessories."

"Good." The Doctor crossed his arms to hide his anxiety. "It should stay that way." Mr. Clever wasn't planning on putting the metal back in his face, was he?

A black pawn stood away from the others on the board, where Mr. Clever had placed it yesterday.

The Doctor reached out for the board, pausing with his hand hovering above the pieces. He wiggled his fingers as he thought.

'Should I do this? What happens if I comply with the game?'

Finally, he placed his hand on a pawn and moved it forward. Mr. Clever smiled and leaned forward to make his move.

"So, you have finally stopped denying that I am still here." He moved a piece and settled back in his chair, exuding an air of confidence.

"And why are you still here?" The Doctor studied the board, trying to formulate a plan. It was early in the game, but it was never too early to have a plan. He moved a piece.

Mr. Clever laughed. "You thought I really left? You thought a mere electromagnetic pulser could dispel me?" He mimicked the sound of a Cyberman with his next words. "Upgrade in progress." He laughed again and shook his head. "It doesn't work. Sure, it suppressed me, but I figured out how to regain my strength." He narrowed his eyes and glared at him. "You're the only thing in my way." He took a piece and moved it forward, taking one of the Doctor's.

"And why do you want my body?" The Doctor worked his jaw as he looked at the board.

"Quite a few reasons. A Time Lord…" He licked his lips as if he was hungry. "Just imagine how fantastic that would be for the Cyberiad."

"You would set the universe to burn. That's what you want, yes?" He made his move.

Mr. Clever made a tsk-tsk sound and shook his head. "Pay more attention, Doctor." Another one of his pieces was taken. "I become more integrated into your mind with each piece I take."

"And what happens when I take one of your pieces? Does it weaken you?"

"No. I'm already here. You can only beat me if you checkmate my king. And these pieces…" He twirled the two white ones in his right hand. "You want to know what happens with these pieces? I can demonstrate."

"It's not your move," the Doctor said, trying to stall him. The look on his face when he handled those two taken pieces was disturbing.

"So, make yours." He gestured with the pieces.

"But what if I'm about to wake up?" The Doctor smirked.

"You're so good at lying," Mr. Clever said. "But no use doing that now. I've figured out all of your lies."

"Have you? I highly doubt that."

Mr. Clever just smirked at him. "Your move, Doctor?"

"What happens if I never make it? We are playing a dangerous game here. What if we never finish?"

"Oh, I won't disappear if that's what you're thinking. Stopping in the middle of the game would mean I win." Mr. Clever looked like he was starting to grow impatient, his fingers tightening around the two white chess pieces.

"Is there even a chance of me beating you?" The Doctor was starting to feel hopeless. The Cyber-Planner already had two of his pieces and if he quit the game, he would lose.

"Why don't we find out? You haven't taken your turn yet."

Grinding his teeth, the Doctor moved a piece. The tension between the both of them was starting to make his muscles tighten uncomfortably. His voice was hoarse when he spoke.

"Your turn."

Mr. Clever smiled and leaned his elbow on the table, flourishing the white pieces.

"Now, Doctor, would you like to know what happens to these pieces? It's rather intriguing."

The Doctor tapped his fingers nervously on the table. He knew that the Cyber-Planner was dragging this out to increase his anxiety. Sadly, it was working.

"Just show me."

"Good. Follow me, please." Mr. Clever stood and turned, seemingly expecting him to follow. Sighing, the Doctor found himself doing so.

They seemed to be in a mansion. The gold-painted hallway they walked through seemed too big for it to be anything else. The wall on the left was lined with windows, but the glass had been painted in gray, the view to the outside obscured. The Doctor didn't even know if there was an outside. This had to be in his mind, but he hadn't designed the place.

"Yes, I know what you must be thinking," Mr. Clever said from ahead of him. "What would a Cyber-Planner want with a mansion? You get to live in a TARDIS that gives you anything you want, while I get to live in your head which does exactly the same."

"I didn't think Cybermen had a concept of beauty."

Mr. Clever spun to face him.

"But I'm not one, am I? I have a body."

"That you stole from me. And now you want to escape my head and take everything for yourself."

"Yes. I plan to, Doctor. Now, come on. Right in here." Mr. Clever ushered him eagerly into a room on the right. The Doctor was reluctant, but he entered without pause.

The walls were a sterile white, the floor made of turquoise-colored tiles. A chair, like one might see in a human doctor's office, sat in the middle of the room. A tray of sharp looking tools sat on a cart next to it.

The Doctor couldn't find his voice for a second. He turned to face Mr. Clever, who had a devious smile on his face.

"What is this? What do you plan on doing to me?"

"Sit and find out."

The Doctor tried to think of some options. He glanced at the tools. Mr. Clever was solid. He could hurt him.

He lunged for the tray, but Mr. Clever had been planning on that. He tackled him and they both fell to the floor.

The Doctor tried to get up, desperately reaching for some kind of weapon. He wished he had his sonic screwdriver.

"Relax, Doctor!"

Pain suddenly sparked into his head as Mr. Clever slammed it into the floor. He was left there dazed as Mr. Clever rose off of him.

He huffed in annoyance. "You made me drop the pieces, Doctor." He leaned over to pick them up and placed them on the tray with a clang.

The Doctor tried to lift his head, but his vision spun and went black for a few moments when he did. He moaned as his head began to throb. Mr. Clever had hit him very hard.

'But I have to get up! I can't let him do anything to me!'

Despite those thoughts, the Doctor was too dazed and hurt to act.

"Oh, Doctor. Poor, poor, Doctor."

The Doctor groaned in protest as Mr. Clever took his arms and hauled him up into the chair. He fought weakly, receiving a stinging slap in the face for his efforts.

The Doctor half opened his eyes when he felt metal clamp over his right wrist. Mr. Clever was securing him to the chair.

He wildly kicked out at him, feeling a surge of victory when he hit him in the groin. Mr. Clever cried out and bent over, backing out of range of his feet.

"How do you like having a body now?"

Mr. Clever lifted his head and glared at him.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" he continued. "Bodies can feel pain." The Doctor was quickly coming up with a plan to deter Mr. Clever. "They're weak. They can be hurt and destroyed. They can become ill. They can die."

Mr. Clever straightened, grimacing in pain.

"But you can regenerate."

The Doctor shook his head, which he regretted instantly. He lost consciousness for a few seconds.

"What?"

When he opened his eyes again, Mr. Clever was right in his face.

"This is my last body," he told him. "If I die, there's no coming back. Not this time." The idea frightened and excited him at the same time. The Doctor had always wondered what death was like. True death. He was also scared to experience something so final, so finite. He was used to coming back. He always came back, but he knew he wouldn't anymore.

"When I first came into your head, you told me you could regenerate." Mr. Clever didn't seem to like this new information.

"Oh, I was just bluffing. Wanted to frighten you a bit. Truth is, I can't. This is my last face."

Mr. Clever was quiet, working his jaw as he thought.

"Do you really want my body now? You could just leave, escape all this."

'Come on. So close…'

"I can't." He turned away and started pacing.

"What?" The Doctor tried rising from the chair, forgetting that his wrists were secured to it.

"I'm tied to you," Mr. Clever explained. "If I leave – well, I don't even know if I can."

"Why don't you give it a try?"

'Come on. Come on.'

"You're trying to distract me, Doctor," he realized.

'No!' The Doctor's hopes fell again. He had been so close, but now Mr. Clever was winning again.

He stopped and turned to him.

"You're trying to control me when I'm the one who strapped you into that chair." He laughed in amusement, seeming to find this comical. "Oh, good show, Doctor, but I'm on top. Not you."

He came over and picked something up off of the tray: a scalpel. He smiled at the Doctor in a way that made him feel sick.

"Oh, this is going to be very fun."

The Doctor turned his head away and struggled in his restraints as Mr. Clever brought the scalpel up to his face.

"No, no! Stop it!"

Mr. Clever roughly turned his head back towards him, exposing the left side of his face.

"Be quiet, Doctor!"

He wished he could kick him, but he didn't have a good position. He was standing off the side rather than in front of him.

The Doctor shuddered as Mr. Clever stroked the edge of the scalpel against his face.

"Are you going to degrade yourself to begging, Doctor?" The blade slid into the flesh next to his ear, bringing a cry out of him. He tried to flinch away from it, but Mr. Clever held him fast.

The Doctor screamed and thrashed his legs as Mr. Clever drew a circle with the scalpel. Blood ran down his face and neck.

"Stop it!" he tried to make it sound like a command rather than a plea. He absolutely refused to beg. He would not give the Cyber-Planner the satisfaction of that.

"Oh, why, Doctor? Am I hurting you?" His voice was teasing.

The Doctor grasped the chair in a white-knuckled grip and arched his back as Mr. Clever scooped out a small mound of flesh, releasing a scream that should have hurt his ears.

His body relaxed once it was done, and he was left gasping with his eyes closed. Blood pulsed wildly from the wound.

"There, there, Doctor." Mr. Clever put the scalpel and the piece of flesh down on the tray, then ran his bloody hands through the Doctor's hair, almost as if he was trying to soothe him. Still caressing him with one hand, he took something from the tray with the other and went around to the left side of the chair.

"This part is a little more precise," he explained, turning the Doctor's head back the way he wanted it to. His hand stilled in his hair, his fingers tightening. There was a click, and then the sound of a drill whirring.

'Oh god, oh god.' The Doctor felt like he was going to be sick. His stomach churned and panic pumped hot adrenaline through his veins, leaving the sound of his hearts beating in his ears.

Mr. Clever took the drill to the hole he had made, making it deeper. The Doctor screamed loud enough to burst a human's eardrums, the agony pulsing through his nerves and bringing a cold shock to his body. It made the most horrible noise he had ever heard when the drill connected with his skull. And in a horrifying moment, it was through. He hadn't remembered how much it hurt to have something go through his skull and about an inch into his brain. Finally, the drill stopped and Mr. Clever tugged it out of the hole he had just made.

"It's fun looking down into your brain, Doctor," Mr. Clever said. He sounded hungry. "A brain that I want so badly."

The Doctor was too dazed by pain to respond. He couldn't even open his eyes. He couldn't do anything but breathe heavily through his parted lips. He realized that tears were slowly making their way down his face.

"Oh, Doctor. Come now. It'll be fine. Sh… Don't cry." Mr. Clever was stroking a hand through his hair again. "It'll be just fine."

He picked up the scalpel again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor is in shock and Clara knows how to comfort him.

When the Doctor woke up, his hands instantly went to his face. It hurt. He felt blood on his skin.

He screamed in horror when his fingers ran over metal: two round pieces connected by a thick, immobile wire.

"No! No, no, no!" He clawed at the metal, still screaming in terror. This couldn't be happening. This could not possibly be happening.

Gasping and screaming, he stumbled out of bed and managed to find the door to his bathroom in the dark. He didn't turn on the light when he entered, didn't want to. His eyes were quickly adjusting to the dark, sometimes illuminated by small blue flashes.

In the mirror, he saw what Mr. Clever had done to him. The left side of his face was smeared with blood, some still trickling out from under the metal. It was only two pieces, but they were very familiar. Two round pieces shoved into his head to connect to his brain.

This time when he screamed, it was in fury and disbelief. Why was this real? Why was this happening to him?

The Doctor pulled at the metal, crazily, his fingers scrabbling for a grip on the slick, blood-coated surface.

"Get out of my head! Please! Just get out!"

He leaned on his counter, breathing heavily. Pain throbbed through his head in unrelenting waves. Cold began to seep into his skin.

'Oh great,' he thought drily. 'I'm going into shock.'

"Doctor! Where are you? Is everything okay?" Clara's voice came from his bedroom.

"Go away, Clara!"

She came into the bathroom and he quickly turned his back. She couldn't see him like this. His limbs were beginning to shake and he clamped his hands into fists in an attempt to still himself a little.

"Doctor, tell me what's going on. The TARDIS woke me and directed me here. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Clara. Go back to sleep." His voice was quiet. He could hardly speak. His hearts pumped wildly and his breath sped in and out of his lungs. The cold had gotten worse.

"No." She turned on the light, momentarily blinding him. He had been so used to the darkness.

"Doctor, why is there blood in your hair?" She stepped towards him.

"Don't look at me." The Doctor's voice shuddered. He placed a shaking hand on the counter, feeling as if he was about to fall over.

"Turn around, Doctor." Her voice was firm, an obvious command.

"Fine." He did as he was told, leaning on the counter for support.

Clara gasped and put a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide. It was a few moments before she lowered her hand and spoke.

"Dear god, what happened to you, Doctor?" She came forward and tried to touch his face.

The Doctor pulled away from her.

"Help me get it out. Please." His voice was weak. He was back to feeling frightened, the pain nearly overwhelming his senses.

"Doctor-"

"I have to get it out!" His hands were back at his face, but it was hard to find a grip when his fingers were shaking violently.

"Doctor, stop!" Clara yanked his hands away from his face and forced him to sit on the edge of the bathtub.

"Tell me what happened."

"I-It's him. It's the C-Cyber Planner." His teeth were starting to chatter. "C-Could you h-help m-m-me? Dying o-of sh-sh-shock would be a st-stupid way t-to go."

"Oh god, what do I do?" Clara looked on the verge of panic. "Warm you up, that's it! You'll have to take off your clothes."

"H-How is that going to h-help me?"

Clara leaned over him and turned on the shower. He could feel the heat of the water near his back.

The Doctor fumbled with the string to his red robe. Clara ended up having to do it for him. She had to pull off his boxers too, and help him into the shower. He was afraid the device in his head would short-circuit and kill him, but it didn't seem to be affected by the water.

He was still shivering as the hot water ran over his body and steamed in the air. His lungs felt like they were closing up from the erratic speed of his breathing.

"Make it stop, Clara," he moaned, clutching his head. "Make the pain stop." He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could wake up from this nightmare.

"Doctor, sh… Take a deep breath." One of Clara's hands was stroking his back. Her touch was pleasantly warm.

He tried, but the inhale was a shaky, interrupted mess, the exhale not much better. Despite this, he continued. He had to calm down.

"Good, Doctor. Breathe. Just breathe." Clara's voice was soothing and gentle. She began to lather shampoo into his bloodstained hair. "Is it alright if you tell me what happened?"

The Doctor gave a vague nodding motion. She was seeing him like this so he might as well tell her.

"The Cyber-Planner is in my head. He never left. I only had a temporary victory." It was easier to talk. His teeth were no longer chattering.

"And he did this to you? How?" She gently tilted his head back into the stream of water to rinse off the shampoo. The thrumming of it was a comforting feeling on his head.

"I thought it was a dream," he started explaining. "He-" The Doctor had to force himself to continue, feeling sick and horrified. "He drilled this into my face."

'And this is what happens when he takes my chess pieces.'

After Mr. Clever had finished drilling the two holes into his face, he had taken the two chess pieces. They morphed into metal in his hands, round pieces with wires to connect to his brain. If the Doctor thought the drilling had been the worst part, he was wrong. Having the metal shoved into the wounds and connected to his brain had been so much worse. He hadn't expected it to hurt so much. Maybe it was because the process was slower than when he had first had the metal implanted in his brain. He hadn't had time to think of the pain then, to go into shock over it. Everything was completely different this time.

"Why only this part? Why not the whole thing?"

"It's part of our game," the Doctor answered, tilting his head back farther to let the stream run over his face. Blood and water ran down his skin. "Every time he takes one of my chess pieces, it turns into metal and goes into my head."

Clara was silent. He could sense how disturbed she was by this, how sickened.

"How did he do it? Was it quick?"

"He operated on me." The reply answered both questions.

"What do we do?" Clara took a cloth and began gently cleaning his face. He flinched when she came in contact with the metal.

"I don't know, Clara." His body was starting to feel more and more relaxed, which surprised him. How could he relax with this thing in his face?

"Pull it out?" he suggested.

"You'll bleed to death!" Clara exclaimed, startled by the idea.

"I'll make sure I won't. You and the TARDIS can keep an eye on me. I'll do it in the infirmary."

"No." She began to wash where the blood had run down onto his neck.

The Doctor opened his eyes to look down at her.

"This can't stay in my face."

Clara ignored the statement and asked, "What does he want?"

"My body. My brain. He wants to take a joyride on a Time Lord."

"Will he take over sometimes? Like he did before?"

"I'm not sure. He seems to be… sleeping right now. I can't feel him."

"That's good, yes?" Clara put down the cloth, which was now stained red. She ran a hand over his chest, still trying to comfort him. "Who's winning the game?"

The Doctor's throat nearly closed up with despair and he choked out, "Him."

"What does he call himself? Or is he just the Cyber-Planner?"

"Mr. Clever." In any other circumstances, the name would be funny, but it brought silence to the both of them.

The Doctor became startled when Clara started pulling off her pajamas: a tank top and some plaid bottoms.

"Clara, what are you doing?" He reached to turn off the water, feeling he had had enough of the shower.

"Coming in with you," she stated simply, now completely naked. "You look like you need some comforting." She stepped into the tub, her body nearly touching his.

"You're comfortable with me when Mr. Clever might come out?" He was becoming aroused at the sight of her, and the way her eyes filled with lust, but he had to make sure she would be safe.

"He won't," she told him. "I know he won't."

Clara tangled her hands in his wet hair and kissed him hard, pulling herself up against him. She gave a muffled cry into his mouth as he bucked his hips against her, shoving himself inside of her. He couldn't help groaning against her lips. She felt so good and tight around him. She tightened herself a bit and he broke the kiss with a moan.

"Oh, Clara."

"Yes, Clever Boy?" She sounded pleased. Her fingers ran over the metal on his face before stroking his skin. The pain almost seemed to be going away.

"You know how to make a man feel good," he told her breathlessly.

"Do I?" She gave a breathy moan as she wiggled her hips.

"Yes. Most definitely."

The Doctor pulled himself out and slowly pushed back in. He was loving the friction and the heat, and he rocked his hips again. Oh yes, but this felt good.

Clara brought her lips back to his as he continued, whimpering and gasping into his mouth. It made him feel good that he could please her like this, that she could please him. It was good that they could satisfy each other's needs. Sometimes, he tried to act completely oblivious to this kind of thing, but the truth was, he needed it more than humans did. All Time Lords did. It was just the way they were made.

Clara broke the kiss with a cry and tilted her head back.

"Oh, right there, right there, right there! Yes! Yes, Doctor!"

The Doctor brought his lips to her exposed throat and groaned, feeling on the verge of yelling and screaming. He bit her, and the instant taste of her blood brought a pleased cry out of him. Her blood tasted so good, so salty. And her skin was a delicacy.

He panted against her flesh, a moan behind each breath. She gave high-pitched gasps with his every movement.

"Clara, Clara, Clara!" he chanted excitedly. He was thrusting into her faster and faster, knowing that he was bringing her close to her climax. He grabbed her butt and pressed her tighter against him, his mouth going back to the bite on her throat. He sucked and lapped at her blood, her cries growing louder and louder. He growled and couldn't resist biting her when her climax came, her walls convulsing around him as he continued to move in and out. She screamed in pure ecstasy and nearly went limp in his arms.

The Doctor slowed his pace again, knowing he would have to let Clara readjust to him. He was glad she could endure multiple climaxes. He had much more endurance than a human male and it was harder for him to reach his peak.

Clara was breathing heavily and moaning. She opened her eyes to look at him. The mix of love and lust on her face was beautiful.

"Doctor," she gasped out. "You're amazing. You're so amazing."

"Oh god," he moaned, speeding up again. "So are you, Clara."

They pounded against each other frantically, screaming and shouting and moaning. The steam and the hot shower made it so much more erotic.

"Okay, okay!" Clara finally gasped. "I'm done! Please, I'm done!"

Reluctantly, the Doctor slowed his pace and pulled himself out from between Clara's legs. He grew excited again, knowing what was coming next. Clara never left him like this.

She looked exhausted, but she knelt in front of him anyway, taking him into her hands.

The Doctor gasped at her touch and placed a hand on her shoulder, the other tangling in her dark, wet hair.

"Suck me, Clara, please."

He felt a burst of pleasure race up his body as she took him into her mouth. Her hands stroked his thighs. He resisted the urge to thrust his hips forward. Clara was in charge now, not him.

She didn't take him in all the way, but instead sucked the sensitive tip, her tongue swirling around it.

The Doctor pulled on her hair and gave a cry.

"Yes, Clara! That's it!"

She rapidly moved her mouth up and down, nearly letting him touch the back of her throat. Her eyes flicked up to meet his every once in a while. She seemed to be enjoying the fact that she was pleasuring him.

Clara pulled her mouth off him to breathe, drawing in large gulps of air, but she wasn't done yet. She took him in both her hands and rubbed hard and fast, avoiding the tip. That's where he most wanted to be touched. She knew how to make him climax.

The Doctor was panting heavily and moaning, his muscles tightening.

"Faster, Clara. Faster."

She did as she was told, increasing speed until he was a whimpering mess. Finally, she rubbed the tip with her hand.

The Doctor yelled loudly as he came, Clara still rubbing him all the while, trying to bring out the last of his pleasure.

And then it was done. The Doctor helped Clara to her feet, smiling at her and she smiling back. They lazily helped each other clean up and then dry off, taking turns dressing each other in their pajamas. Not a word was spoken between them the entire time. That silence remained as they collapsed on his bed, utterly spent, their fingers twined together.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor tries to get the metal out of his face.

Clara ran her fingers over the small bit of metal on the Doctor's face, tears welling up in her eyes. She couldn't believe this had happened to him, that the Cyber-Planner was still in his head. It had terrified her when it had happened the first time. She had been afraid of losing her Doctor forever.

She choked back a sob. It wouldn't do good to wake him. He needed his sleep, though she was afraid Mr. Clever would take advantage of that.

Clara became startled when a dim orange light began appearing in the room. In the dark, she had thought the Doctor's room was painted with stars and two half moons. Those had shined a bit, but the moon had started lowering on the wall, and now light was leaking into the room like a sunrise.

Two sunrises, she realized. There were two points of light on the wall opposite the bed, one rising faster than the other.

'Oh my stars, he replicated Gallifrey.' The walls and ceiling were a moving celestial system with two orange suns, now rising. She couldn't help crying looking at it. This is what dawn would have looked like on his planet.

The Doctor shifted next to her and mumbled something unintelligible. She turned her head to look at him. His eyes were opened lazily, staring at her face. She was happy when she saw him there.

"Clara?"

She nodded her head and stroked his face. He flinched away from her.

"Don't touch me there. Please." His voice was a pained whimper.

"Sorry. I don't know why I had the urge to do that."

His eyes gazed around the room and he smiled a little.

"So, you're finally seeing my bedroom." He sounded sad looking at the sunrises. "What do you think?"

"It's beautiful, Doctor. But… why do you hurt yourself like this? It must hurt seeing this."

"It's nice too," he said. "Brings back good memories." There were tears in his eyes, but he was smiling at the same time. "I remember when I asked my mum what it was. She told me it was magic, and I asked her why. She said that anything that can result in life is a magical and beautiful thing, that the universe and all other universes couldn't have just made themselves. Something else must have done it."

"Do you believe that?"

"I don't know. Even for me, something like that is hard to comprehend."

"There has to be something else out there," Clara said. "Somewhere we go when we die, where we come from when we're born. I never believed that death was the end of everything, not even when my mum died. I feel as if she's still out there somewhere."

The Doctor smiled and ran a hand through her hair.

"Always so hopeful, Clara. I like that." He looked back at the rising suns, now halfway over the floor, which served as the horizon. The room was filling with yellow and orange light. "But there is no hope for some things."

"What do you mean?" This time when she touched his face, he didn't move away, didn't seem to notice.

"These two suns should be rising over a planet right now," he answered. "The people of Gallifrey should be waking to that light, knowing that they can live this day, that there are so many opportunities out there. Instead, the suns and the moon are circling emptiness, a planet that was, a space where there should be none. And it's all my fault." His voice got choked up and he closed his eyes, tilting his head to hide his face in the pillow. "It's all my fault."

Clara rubbed consolingly at his back, knowing there was nothing she could say. It was like how everyone had said, 'I'm sorry,' when her mum had died. They were sorry for what? It hadn't been their fault, had it? Was expressing their pity supposed to make her feel better? There was nothing to say to anything like that.

"Ten billion, Clara," he sobbed, his voice muffled by the gold pillow. "Ten billion people were on that planet when I destroyed it. I felt it just… disappear. A part of me vanished with that explosion. A part of me exploded with that planet. I can still remember how it hurt in that instant. I can still remember-" His voice cut off with a sob and his body shuddered.

"Oh, Doctor…"

It was a long time before he quieted down, almost an hour. The suns had cleared the floor, giving the impression of a clear day.

The Doctor turned his head back to her, his eyes red and puffy.

"I'm sorry, Clara. I shouldn't burden you with this."

"No. I'm glad you told me. You can't keep this all inside."

"Thank you, Clara." He rubbed at his eyes. "Now, I expect that you're hungry."

She felt nauseas as soon as she got up off of the bed and she ran to his bathroom, afraid that she would throw up. The Doctor followed her, his demeanor concerned.

"Clara, are you okay?"

She lifted her head up from the toilet, taking a deep breath, glad her stomach had not decided to empty itself. The churning was starting to calm.

"Yeah. I think I have low-blood sugar or somethin'. Need somethin' to eat."

"You sure you're okay? I could run a test to make sure…"

Clara shook her head in exasperation and took his offered hand to stand.

"You worry too much. Let's go eat. I want chocolate cake."

"What? For breakfast?"

"Yes. Chocolate cake with ice cream." Clara wanted it so badly she would have considered her attitude murderous. "I'm a woman; I get cravings."

"Okay… But, that's not breakfast food…"

"Doctor, if you don't give me chocolate cake and ice cream, I'm going to take your sonic screwdriver and shove it up your little Time Lord butt."

His eyes went wide and his jaw went slack. He was obviously taking the threat very seriously. He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of his bedroom.

"Right. Chocolate cake and ice cream it is."

 

The Doctor left Clara busy with a book after breakfast and headed to the infirmary, his hands working at the metal on his face. It had to come out.

When he got there, he found the room arranged to suit his needs. There was a long counter in front of a large mirror. The counter was crowded with different tools and supplies: a few syringes filled with morphine, a scalpel, metal pliers, gauze, some bandages, wire-cutters, and some thread and a needle. He knew exactly what he had to do. He was frightened of course, but determined to get the metal out of his face.

The Doctor picked up the pliers and tested how tight the metal was screwed into his face. It wouldn't budge, causing him to frown. He put down the pliers and picked up the wire-cutters, bringing them up to the wire that connected the two round pieces. It took a lot of struggling to cut it in half, and an electric shock passed through his brain when he did. He cried out and went limp against the counter, dropping the wire-cutters and slicing his arm on the scalpel. Blood spilled onto the counter.

He almost gave in to despair right then and there, but then pushed himself up, his arm twinging. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. He couldn't stand having this metal in his face. Yes, it was going to come out.

The Doctor reached for the scalpel and brought it up near his ear. He took a deep, shuddering breath. He would have to cut around if he wanted it to come out.

"You can do this," he told himself firmly. "You can."

He couldn't stop himself from shivering when the scalpel touched his skin. It was another reminder of what Mr. Clever had done to him.

The Doctor gritted his teeth and forced the blade into his flesh. He didn't make a sound as he cut slowly and cautiously around the metal, widening the hole in his head. His arm was tensed and shaking when he placed the scalpel down with a clink. Blood beaded out from the incision he had made and trickled down. He took up the pliers again, clicking the ends of them together nervously. Pain pulsed through his face.

The Doctor's resolve crumbled. He dropped the pliers and fell against the counter, the energy draining out of him. He wasn't ready to face the pain.

'Maybe I don't have to face all of it.' He had completely forgotten about the morphine. He picked up a syringe and, with no hesitation at all, shoved the needle into his arm. A tingling numbness crawled through his veins, but it wasn't enough. He took another injection and waited a bit before picking up the pliers again.

If not for the morphine, his hearts would have been pumping out of control. Instead, it felt like his panic was wrapped in padding, suppressed and unable to grow out of control.

He gripped the metal with the pliers, took a deep breath, and tugged. A cry parted his lips and the agony nearly knocked him out. Feeling pain so deep was unbearable, but he kept tugging. He was not going to bear having this in his face or connected to his brain.

The Doctor continued, not pausing as the pain increased into an excruciating aching and burning. His vision went gray and he doubled over, losing sense of everything but the pain. And then, it was out.

"Oh! Oh my-" The Doctor dropped the pliers and the metal on the counter and pressed a hand to his head. Blood gushed between his fingers. He tried reaching for something to stop the bleeding, but he collapsed to the floor. His head hit the tiles and he lost consciousness.

 

The Doctor's head was resting on a table. The cold surface shocked feeling into his nerves and he jerked upright, the chess pieces rattling. As usual, Mr. Clever sat across from him. He shook his head in disapproval.

"Tsk-tsk, Doctor. Trying to ruin my work?"

 

The Doctor scrambled up, one hand still holding on to his face, the other groping for the metal he had yanked out. His fingers curled around it. He had to put it back in.

 

"Good, Doctor." Mr. Clever sounded pleased. He looked at the blood-stained metal in his hand. "Are you going to put it back in, or do you need my help?" He started to stand.

"Don't touch me."

 

The Doctor fiddled with the wires, trying to straighten and fix them. More blood pulsed and rushed out of the hole in his head. He was dying. Carefully, he positioned the wires into the wound and started putting the piece back in. He groaned and found himself falling forward onto the counter.

 

"You sure you don't need help, Doctor? You seem to be having trouble."

Mr. Clever stood over him and took the metal in one hand, slowly guiding it back into his head.

The Doctor grabbed his wrist, his panic increasing the farther it went into his head.

Mr. Clever easily pulled his hand off of him and forced his head back. The Doctor was too weak from blood loss and pain to fight him.

"I-I don't want this," he gasped out. "I don't want you."

"Sometimes we can't make decisions, Doctor. I didn't choose to be in your head. I was forced into it. But, I could decide to take advantage of that."

The Doctor yelped as the wires touched his brain, sending a burning shock through his nerves. He felt like his body had been fried in a pan.

"Stop it. I don't want this."

With another painful zap, the wires were once again connected to his brain and the metal was in place. His vision was red and his hearts pumped wildly. His face throbbed.

"Would you rather die?" Mr. Clever went and sat back down, not seeming to mind the blood on his hands. "Leave your precious Clara all on her own with no way to get back home?" He moved a chess piece forward. The sound jarred the Doctor's ears. He felt like it spelled out his doom.

"Do I have any other choice?"

"No."

The Doctor straightened and surveyed the board. He moved a piece, taking one of the Cyber-Planner's.

"Good, Doctor. Good."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara suspects that she's pregnant.

"That's it, Clara!" The Doctor burst into the library and interrupted her reading. He strode over to her, looking purposeful. There was blood on his face. She closed her book and stood.

"Doctor, what is it? What did you do?" Worry gnawed at her stomach.

"You're going home." He suddenly grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out of the library. She tripped and stumbled along, unable to keep up with his long legs. She shook herself out of his grip once they reached the console room.

"Home? Why? What's going on?"

"You shouldn't be around me right now." He started running around the console, flipping switches and pressing buttons. "Too dangerous."

"Did you try to get that out of your face?"

The Doctor didn't answer, and the TARDIS started making that strange sound that it did when it was traveling.

"Doctor, I don't want to go home!" Everything went quiet as the TARDIS landed, the energy dying down.

"It doesn't matter what you want," he snapped. "I know what's best.

"No you don't. You did try to get that out of your face, didn't you?" She strode over to him and crossed her arms stubbornly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh, yes you are." He grabbed her and directed her towards the door.

"Doctor, let go of me! I'm not leaving!" Clara fought, but he wouldn't let go. She couldn't leave him when he was like this! She wouldn't!

"It should be five minutes from the time I picked you up. Go get ready for work."

"Doctor!" Clara wrenched her arm free while the shout echoed around the curved ceiling. His eyes finally met hers. They were dark with pain, frustration, and anger.

Clara pointedly touched the metal on his face before he could pull back.

"You need me."

"I don't need you," he spat, pulling away from her and turning his back. "I don't need anybody!"

His words hit her like a rock and her face fell. Then she felt a flare of anger.

"Fine! I'll leave your bloody TARDIS! Be corrupted and die for all I care!" She left and slammed the door, met with an autumn chill that caused the hair to raise on her arms. It was a while before the TARDIS started dematerializing behind her. There was heavy silence when it was gone.

Clara somehow restrained her tears until she made it to her flat. She sat down heavily on the sofa in the parlour, hugging her arms, her vision blurred with tears and her face wet.

'Why would he do something so stupid as to push me away from him? He does need me. He does!''

'That stupid man! That stupid, stupid man!'

Clara hid her face in the sofa cushions and sobbed loudly. He had just cast her out as if she meant nothing. Nothing at all. And he was left on his own with that thing in his head.

She was more worried than angry, not sure what would become of him when he was left on his own. She hoped to whatever was out there that he would be okay and that he would have the strength to win.

Clara glanced at the digital clock on her TV box. 6:30. She should be on her way to work, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

She reached for the phone that she kept on an end table next to the sofa. She should call in sick. She didn't feel good anyway, even without the add-on of the Doctor throwing her out. She was tired and her stomach hurt. These constant symptoms were starting to bother her, but she just brushed it off. She would feel better with a little rest. She always did.

It took forever for her to get through to the headmaster. She worked as an English teacher at the local high school. She liked books and she liked kids, so she found it to be the perfect job.

She explained her request for a sick day to the headmaster, exaggerating her symptoms just to make sure she would get it. He grudgingly agreed and said he would find her a substitute, then hung up.

Clara put the phone down with a sigh of relief. Good. Now she wouldn't have to worry about work.

She checked the clock again. 6:35. It would be too early to call her friend Nina and talk to her. She knew she didn't have to work today. Never had to on Thursdays. Was it Thursday?

Clara put a hand to her head and closed her eyes, frustrated. The Doctor had just expected her to remember the date he had picked her up on. She knew it was the same day, but what day was it?

She was too tired and upset to check her computer. She could do that later. For now, all she wanted to do was go to sleep. So, naturally, that's what she tried to do, but it felt impossible. Worried thoughts wouldn't stop running through her head. For all she knew, the next time he showed up, he could have been gone for a year.

'You couldn't get a normal boyfriend,' she chastised herself. 'You had to become attracted to a time-traveling alien with a box. What would Nina say?'

She hadn't told any of her friends about the Doctor. Most would think she was lying. Nina, who she had known all her life, would definitely go along with it, but believing it was a bit of a stretch. She herself hadn't believed in it until she was given sufficient evidence.

She tossed and turned in her bed, trying to get comfortable. It wasn't the absence of another person that was bothering her. She often slept alone. The Doctor usually left after they finished any sexual act. She wasn't sure why he did it, but it hurt her feelings. She had never spoken of it to him though. He could be hard to talk to sometimes.

'Especially when he thinks he's right.'

The amount of frustration boiling inside of her made her want to scream. She had to help him somehow, but that was impossible. He had left her here, and for all she knew, he was currently changing his telephone number. She wouldn't put it past him.

Finally, her spinning thoughts exhausted her to the point where she started drifting off. Of course, all Clara could dream about was the Doctor.

 

"Thanks for coming to see me, Nina." Clara took a sip of her tea.

Nina shrugged, her long, dirty blonde hair falling over her shoulders.

"No problem. Sounded like you needed somebody. A lot happen since I saw you last night?"

Clara almost choked on her tea. Right. Nina had only seen her last night while Clara hadn't seen her in weeks. This would be hard to explain. She bit her lip, trying to think of where to start.

"One night stand gone wrong?" Nina suggested.

"What? No! I would never do that!"

"Okay. Just checking." She brought her mug to her lips.

"Just hear me out on this," she started. "It will probably be hard to believe."

"Okay…"

"I have a boyfriend who-"

"Really? That's great!"

"Let me finish, Nina," she snapped, starting to feel irritated.

"Sorry." She looked sheepish for interrupting.

"And, well, I'm just goin' to put this straightforward. He's from another planet and he's a time traveler." The words spilled quickly out of her mouth.

Nina laughed. "That's funny, Clara. So, tell me about him."

"I'm being serious."

"Did somebody put something in your drink last night?"

"No! I'm telling the truth!" She had to find a way to convince her friend.

"Okay. Tell me about him."

"He's something called a Time Lord," she started explaining. "He looks human, but has two hearts instead of one."

"Two hearts?"

"Yes. And he flies around in this machine called a TARDIS that can-"

"Is he attractive?"

"Well, yeah, most definitely, but that's not what I was-"

"Does he have a big dick?"

"Nina!"

"What? Just asking."

Clara's face flushed red thinking about it. "Yeah…" she answered reluctantly.

"Lovely. So I'm guessing you two have-"

"Nina, I wasn't done."

"Okay, okay. No more interruptions. I promise."

Clara continued to explain about the Doctor. Surprisingly, Nina listening without speaking up. It felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest when she finished. She studied Nina's face, but couldn't tell what she was thinking.

"So, you're telling me that you've actually been away for weeks, adventuring with a time traveling alien."

It wasn't a question, but Clara responded anyway.

"Yes."

"Got proof?"

Clara racked her brain, then remembered a page she had photocopied from Angie's history book. She found it next to her computer and handed it to Nina.

"That's you?" she exclaimed "That can't be you!"

Half the page was taken up with a picture of her and the Doctor with the crew of a Cold War era Russian submarine. They were all smiling wildly, having just averted what would have been a cataclysmic nuclear war.

Nina's eyes scanned over the page.

"Clara Oswald and a mysterious man called the Doctor…" she read. Then she looked up at Clara. "What's his real name?"

"Don't know. He doesn't tell anybody."

"Can I meet him?"

"Um… About that… He kind of kicked me out."

"What do you mean he kicked you out? You didn't break up, did you?"

"No. At least I don't think so. But he's dealing with some issues and didn't want me around."

"What kind of issues?"

"None of your business." Her voice was sharp. Clara was not going to tell Nina about Mr. Clever, even if she was her best friend.

"'Kay, sorry. You seem irritated. You on your period or something?"

"That's one of the reasons I called you over," Clara said. "I, well – I missed my period."

"You sure it's not late?"

"Late by two weeks? I don't think so. And I've been feeling tired and I get sick in the mornings."

Nina's blue eyes widened.

"You're pregnant?!"

"I think I might be." Clara's voice was quiet. She had been ignoring the symptoms, but they had been going on too long. She thought that Nina would be the best person to tell. She felt scared all of a sudden. The baby would be part Time Lord. How would it be different from carrying a human baby? It wasn't like she had ever done either before.

"Don't you think you should go to a doctor or something?"

Clara shook her head. "It's probably a bad idea. Who knows what they would do if they found out it wasn't fully human?"

"You have a point. Does he know?"

"I haven't told him. I was going to, but with what's going on right now, I don't think it's such a good idea."

"Why?"

"Like I said – None of your business."

"Please tell me."

"No."

"Please?"

"Uh-uh." Clara shook her head.

"Fine. I'll stop pestering you about it. Don't want crazy pregnant woman stabbing me with a kitchen knife."

Clara laughed, her mood lightening again. Nina was good at making people laugh.

"What are you going to do about all this?"

"I have no idea."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor spies on Clara, then continues his game with Mr. Clever.

The Doctor peered carefully around the corner of the building just as Clara passed by. He pulled back, thinking she'd seen him, but she continued without even a glance, walking through the front entrance of the school. She was coming back from her lunch break.

He felt bad about kicking her out of the TARDIS and though it best to keep his distance, but he couldn't help checking up on her.

He whipped around when he heard a loud slurp. A teenage boy was standing behind him, nonchalantly, and loudly, sipping soda through a straw.

"You know," he started, "Kinda shady to lurk around a high school." He slurped his soda and shook the cup, knocking around the ice at the bottom.

"Shouldn't you be in class?"

The kid snorted. "Haven't you ever heard of cutting?"

The Doctor frowned disapprovingly, but didn't say anything to that. He had to make him go away.

"Something on your face?" he asked.

"No." The Doctor smoothed his hair over the metal. He had forced it to grow out so he could reverse the way he usually styled his hair to cover that part of his face. It was easy to will hair to grow.

"What'ch ya doin' around here?" the kid asked. "I could, uh, call the cops." A hand slipped into his pocket where he undoubtedly had a cell phone. For some reason though, he didn't look scared.

"Don't tell anyone I was here," the Doctor said. He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a few pounds. "Here. Go buy yourself an ice cream."

The kid didn't take the money.

"Tell me what you're doin'."

The Doctor sighed. "Fine. I just came to see Clara Oswald."

"The English teacher?" He looked surprised. "You her boyfriend or something?"

"Yes. Just don't tell anyone I was here."

"But I thought you wanted to see her."

'Ugh, I'm so stupid!

His mind hadn't been functioning at it's normal rate since the metal had been put in his head.

He shook the money.

"You still want ice cream?"

"I'm lactose intolerant." He took a loud slurp of his soda, seemingly disappointed when he realized that was the end of it.

"How about a new video game?" The Doctor pulled some more money out of his pocket and offered it to him. He took it and shoved it in his pocket.

"What do you want me to do again?"

"Don't tell anybody I was here."

"Yeah, 'cause that's gonna happen, creep. Thanks for the money!" The kid ran off and entered the building.

'Great.' The Doctor hadn't been planning on leaving so soon. But, by the time some people had come outside to see what was going on, he was gone.

 

"I see what you're doing there, Doctor," Mr. Clever said, examining the board. "Planning on trapping me?"

Mr. Clever had been unable to gain anymore of the Doctor's pieces, while he on the other hand, had managed to gain three.

The Doctor waited patiently for Mr. Clever to make his move. He didn't mind waiting. He was more anxious when it was his turn.

"How's Clara doing?" the Cyber-Planner asked, still studying the board.

"I wouldn't know," the Doctor replied. He inwardly cursed when Mr. Clever moved a piece, fracturing his plan.

"Why not?"

"Kicked her off the TARDIS. Dropped her off home. Didn't want her to be around you."

"Oh, too bad. I rather liked Clara last I met her. Pretty, for a human. I see why you like her. How is it, not having her around?"

"Lonely," the Doctor answered, making his move. "Rather boring."

"You have me."

"You don't count."

Mr. Clever frowned, then took one of the Doctor's pieces. His hearts began to beat erratically.

"Would you like to move, Doctor? Or do I have to drag you there?"

Without a word, the Doctor stood, scraping his chair back, and left the room. Mr. Clever looked pleased as he rose and followed behind him. It was time to go to the room with the knives and the drill.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Clever tricks Clara into letting him into her flat.

Clara examined herself in the mirror, turning to view herself from different angles. Was it obvious that she had a baby bump? Or did it look like she had a bit of extra fat?

Two weeks had passed since the Doctor had dropped her off home and her pregnancy had advanced rapidly. She knew he was spying on her, but he didn't approach her. She thought it best to hide her pregnancy. If he found out, Mr. Clever would too.

There was a knock at the front door and she went to answer it. She was met with Nina, arms full of shopping bags.

"If you don't mind," she said, "I need to use your sofa."

"What have you been up to?" Clara asked, taking a few bags from her. They both went into the parlour and set them down, Clara closing the door with her foot.

"Shopping," she replied, looking pleased with herself. "For you."

"Why?" She raised her eyebrows skeptically.

"With your boyfriend spying on you and all, I figured you wouldn't want to go shopping in the maternity section." She began pulling out some shirts and dresses, holding them up to Clara.

"I don't think this color would look good on you," she commented, tossing a peach colored dress aside.

"Is it that obvious?" she asked, gesturing to the bit of roundness in her abdomen.

"Kind of," Nina said. "I figured that if anyone was going to notice it, he would."

To get Nina to understand why she was hiding this from him, she had to explain Mr. Clever. It took a while with a lot of confusion on her friend's part, but she seemed to understand.

"You want to go out tonight?" Clara asked, beginning to browse through the clothes. It looked like Nina had a pretty good selection.

"Sure. There's this fondue place I want to try out. I've never had fondue before, but it sounds heavenly."

"You have no idea how good that sounds right now." Clara now had a craving for melted cheese and chocolate that would have to be quenched. Along with her craving for olives. That had to be taken care of too.

'God, I hate being pregnant! It's almost like being on my period all the time!;

"Cravings?"

"Oh yeah."

"Has he stopped by to see you at all, other than the occasional spying?" Nina asked.

"Not at all." Clara felt tears spring into her eyes and she hurriedly wiped them away. She was still upset that he had left her, but what was crying over it going to accomplish?

She sniffled and wiped away more tears. No! She couldn't be crying.

Clara sat down heavily on her sofa, a blue shirt in her hands. Nina stopped what she was doing and moved a bag over, coming to sit next to her.

"I really hate him sometimes," she admitted. "He kicked me out and left me here. He did this to me." She gestured to the bump in her abdomen.

"Technically, you both had a part in that."

"Not helping, Nina," Clara snapped bitterly. Her vision was blurred with tears that she desperately tried to wipe away, but more kept coming.

"I don't want to be pregnant," she moaned. "I don't want a baby. I'm scared." She hadn't voiced this before, but it felt good that she had.

Nina rubbed at her back, a gesture of consolation; it didn't help. At least she didn't speak. It would make it worse if she did.

"And it's not even like it's a human baby! Should I be this big already?"

"Clara, there's no way of knowing how far along you are," Nina said. "It's probably just fine."

"How would you know that? He's a completely different species! What if something goes wrong?"

"Clara, sh… There's no point getting yourself all worked up over it."

Clara looked at her friend, blinking away her tears and sniffling.

"I know. I just… I'm frightened, Nina. I'm very frightened."

"I know. I would be too. Nothing to be ashamed of."

"I'm glad you're here," Clara said. "I'm glad you're not leaving me like he did. I don't know if he'll ever come back."

"The fact that he's keeping an eye on you probably means he'll confront you soon," Nina said. "It'll be just fine."

"But I can't tell him about this! What if it's not really him?!" She had seen Mr. Clever act like the Doctor, and he was very good at it. He'd nearly tricked her. What if he succeeded?

Nina, for once, was at a loss for words. She didn't speak, which Clara found unnerving. Her friend was never quiet. That was one of the things she liked so much about her. She was always ready to talk about something. She knew many of Clara's deepest secrets and worries.

Clara suddenly laughed, a funny thought forming in her head. She didn't know why it had shown up, but now she couldn't stop laughing. Nina arched her eyebrows, looking confused.

"What's so funny, all of a sudden?"

"I just thought of the time when we tried dating each other," she gasped out. "You know, when neither of us could get boyfriends."

Nina started laughing too.

"We made such a horrible couple!"

"I know!"

Clara took deep breaths after the fit of laughter died down, trying to ease the pain in her diaphragm. Nina was still giggling a little bit.

"Nina?"

"Mmhmm?"

"Skip tonight. Let's go for fondue now."

 

Clara couldn't help thinking about that chocolate as she sat on the sofa in her parlour, watching some TV. She had decided to get in her pajamas early and have a lazy night. She had been planning on grading papers, but that could wait until tomorrow.

Still wanting melted chocolate more than she had ever wanted anything before, she had tried her own attempt at fondue. It was nothing like what they had had at the restaurant, but it was still good. She had different food piled on her coffee table in front of her. She had found anything she could and vowed to dip it in the chocolate. Currently, she was eating chips coated in the stuff, leftovers from her dinner the night before.

'Why have I never eaten chips like this before?' She wondered. 'It's so good!'

In any other circumstances, Clara would have felt disgusting eating like this, but her want drained out all those negative thoughts. She was pregnant. She was going to gain weight anyway. Besides, when a woman had cravings, they needed to be satisfied.

There was a knock at the door and she quickly put down her bowl of chocolate and turned off the TV, wiping her hands on a napkin and finishing a chip as she went to go answer it. She wondered who it was. Maybe Nina had forgotten her purse and only just now realized it.

Her heart thumped wildly when she opened the door. The Doctor stood there, looking sheepish, hands folded behind his back. There was more metal on his face.

'Dear god, he's losing!'

"Doctor?"

"Clara, I-I'm sorry I kicked you out. Can I come in?"

She couldn't help laughing in delight. The Doctor was back!

"Of course!" She let him enter and closed the door.

"It was stupid of me," he said, leaning on her dining table, hands in his pockets. He couldn't meet her eyes, probably out of guilt.

"Doctor, it's okay. You're here now."

Clara went up to him and kissed him, grabbing the collar of his jacket to pull him close. He seemed startled, but then his arms were around her.

She hugged him tightly and leaned her head on his shoulder. She took a deep breath, pulling in his scent.

"I'm so glad you're here, Doctor."

"Oh, but he's not here, my dear." His voice had gotten ominously lower. "Only I am."

Clara froze for an instant, her heart stopping. It wasn't her Doctor. It was Mr. Clever.

She tried pulling away from him, but only managed to lift her head. He held her tight enough to bruise her flesh.

"Bring him back," she demanded. She said this while looking into his eyes. They were dark without having changed shades, still the same green, but more terrifying. She could see his hunger, his cruelty, his power.

"You remember me, flesh-girl? Good. That's very good. Humans have a better memory than I thought."

"Let go of me." Clara was surprised at the strength of her voice. She was terrified, yet her words had sounded like a command.

"I'm afraid I don't want to. You see, I don't think it's fair that the Doctor gets you all to himself."

'Oh my stars.'

The burst of panic that flooded through her veins nearly caused her to faint. Her heart beat erratically in her head.

She weakly fought to escape his grip. The fear had taken the strength from her muscles. She knew she should scream, give a cry for help – someone would definitely hear her – but she couldn't find her voice.

'I can't let him do this to me!'

With a surge of determination, Clara kneed him in the stomach and broke free, dashing for her kitchen. She had a large knife in her hand by the time he stumbled through the door.

"Stay back!" Clara leveled the knife at him, the blade shaking in her grip. "I'll use this! I don't care if you have the Doctor's body! I'm not letting you touch me!"

"Is that so?" Mr. Clever took a step forward to test her and she backed up against the counter. "You would bring pain to his physical form to save yourself? How intriguing."

Mr. Clever lunged at her and she slashed out with the knife, feeling sickened as she sensed it connect with his skin. He hissed in pain and grabbed her wrist before she could make another move. There was a snap and a flash of pain that made darkness flare in front of her eyes for a few moments. She choked on a scream and the knife clattered to the white-tiled floor.

"Oops. I forgot how fragile you humans are."

Clara's eyes met the Cyber-Planner's first thing they opened. Her gaze then went down to where she had wounded him. Blood dripped down from a long slash across his left arm.

"Don't go feeling victorious over such a minor injury," he sneered, watching her eyes. "It's nothing compared what I'm going to do to you."

Mr. Clever had her pressed against the counter, nearly sitting on it. His body left an imposing weight over her.

His gaze flicked down to her belly and her breath caught in her throat.

"Oh, I see. He doesn't know, does he?"

"Please, don't touch me." Clara found that she was crying from sheer terror.

"Don't worry." A hand came to rest on her stomach, his eyes coming back to her face. It was unnerving how it felt like the Doctor's hand, but it wasn't. "I won't tell. Sh…" He pressed a finger to his lips.

Clara twisted her body, trying to find a way out of this, but his left hand tightened around her wrist, the one that he had broken. She gave a cry and her body went limp at the pain.

"Stop it. Please."

"Aw, poor little Clara wants her Doctor back. I'm afraid it's not going to happen, not when I finish with him."

"Let me go!" Clara tried to tug herself out of his grip, but her wrist hurt too much. Ice flooded her veins when she realized that she had no control at all.

His other hand went to her stomach, his fingers stroking circles around it. She wanted to vomit.

"I'm going to destroy the Doctor," he continued. "I'm going to win the game, and then I'm going to drill all the pieces into his head. I'm going to be fully incorporated. This body will be mine."

"No." Clara shook her head. "He'll win, not you."

"But I'm already winning. Why else do you think I'm controlling the body right now?" He game close and tugged at Clara's ear with his teeth. Her stomach was doing flips.

"Why else do you think I have you in my grasp?"

"You can't have me. The Doctor will-"

"The Doctor's not here right now, Clara. He can't protect you." His teeth grazed her neck and she squirmed under him, but his grip on her wrist didn't loosen. "Nobody can. I have you all to myself. We are going to have a splendid time together."

Clara tried shoving him away with her other hand, but Mr. Clever grabbed it. He lifted himself off of her slightly and shook his head.

"No, no. Bad, Clara. Do I need to break this wrist too?" His fingers tightened and she whimpered.

"No, please." She sobbed quietly. She couldn't believe that there was no way out of this. She had never been so scared in her life.

"Then don't hit me. Don't struggle. Doing so will make it worse, understand?"

Clara gave a nod of her head. Mr. Clever was blurred in her vision, which didn't make her feel any safer.

"Good."

Before she knew what was happening, she was slung over his shoulder and carried out of the kitchen.

"Now, Clara. Time to find your bedroom."


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor questions Mr. Clever about his whereabouts.

The Doctor studied his restraints, knowing he had to break them and get out. He felt weak from pain and blood loss. After Mr. Clever had drilled the piece into his head, he had vanished. The Doctor knew that the Cyber Planner had control of his body.

'And what could he possibly be doing with it?'

The thought terrified him and his mind instantly went to Clara. He had to save her.

He looked down at his restraints again, his hearts being crushed with despair. Was there even a way out of these?

He leaned his head back against the chair and breathed deeply. He would just have to wait for Mr. Clever to come back. He was sure he would. He wouldn't be able to control the body forever.

'Especially since we haven't finished our game.'

Strapped into that chair, the Doctor had a terrible sinking feeling that he would lose. He couldn't possibly win. He had only won the last game by cheating.

'Mr. Clever probably doesn't appreciate that.'

The Doctor tested his restraints for what felt like the thousandth time. Had the metal been made to withstand his strength?

The Doctor gave up and crossed his legs as if he was reclining. Yes, nothing to do but wait.

'But I hate waiting. I hate doing nothing. There has to be a way out of here!'

For some reason, he thought he heard Clara's voice in the silence, faint and incoherent. He thought he had just imagined it, but there it was again. He strained his ears, trying to increase his sense of hearing.

"Doctor, please. I know you're in there. Please."

His hearts pumped wildly when he realized that it sounded like she was sobbing. Horror dripped into the pit of his stomach. What was Mr. Clever doing to her?

His motivation to be free had been renewed. Clara's voice fell silent and he looked around the room. There had to be something to get him out.

He glanced over at the tray next to him, the tools on it that he had become terrified of. Blood was starting to dry on them. His blood.

The Doctor came up with an idea, a stupid one, but still. If he could control the energy in his body, maybe he could control the energy in other objects, just like how he locked the TARDIS doors with a snap of his fingers.

The drill was his first choice. He concentrated hard on it, trying to increase his sense of energy to the things around him. It brought a pounding to his head, but he didn't stop. He absolutely had to get out, no questions asked.

And it moved. Just a twitch that rattled the other tools on the tray, but he had managed it. The Doctor laughed in triumph, trying to raise it so he could get it over to him.

His head pounded furiously and his vision went red as he continued concentrating, trying to force the drill over to him. It was extremely difficult. He was practically fighting the laws of physics.

An object at rest will remain at rest…

He narrowed his eyes and shouted in determination. It twitched again, enough to knock the scalpel to the floor.

…Unless acted upon by another force.

He had to be that force. The Doctor had to extend his energy towards the drill and shove it towards him.

His fingers curled around the armrests of the chair, knuckles turning white. He could do this. He had to. For Clara.

Suddenly, the drill leaped off the tray and landed in his lap, nearly stabbing him in the thigh. The Doctor jumped, surprised at the movement he had accomplished.

'Now for the hard part.'

Gritting his teeth against the headache, the Doctor forced out his energy again. His vision flashed red with each beat of his hearts.

After what felt like ages, the drill turned on and began making holes through the metal restraints. He wasn't trying to cut all the way through. He just had to weaken the metal enough to break it.

The drill clattered to the ground and went still and silent. He breathed deeply, his vision starting to return to normal. He hadn't realized how clenched his body had become during the process. He worked his fingers and toes, trying to relax. The hardest part was over.

After a few moments, the Doctor began pulling at the metal restraints. He felt like he had wasted too much time, but there was nothing to be done for it.

The metal broke with a loud clang and –

 

The Doctor found himself in his TARDIS. He stumbled to gain his footing, startled by the regaining of his body. He was disoriented, completely unsure of what had happened while Mr. Clever had his body. He could feel the Cyber-Planner in his head, a tight ball of frustration. He was not happy to be back in his head.

The Doctor found a long, bleeding slash on his left arm, his clothing there torn and stained. He was covered in grass and dirt and the front of his body ached as if he had fallen, most likely from somewhere high up. He felt spent as well, as if his body had been put through something strenuous.

He checked the coordinates on the console screen and found that the TARDIS was floating through deep space just as he had left it. Still, he knew something must have happened. Clara's voice still rang in his head.

"What did you do to her?"

He wasn't surprised by the reply Mr. Clever gave.

'Not telling.'

He heaved a sigh of frustration, reaching for a lever on the control panel. He had to get to Clara and make sure she was okay.

His hand froze on the lever.

'But she won't know it's me. And what if you get free again?'

'Would you like to risk it, Doctor? Oh, that's a fun game: Risk. We should play sometime.'

The Doctor sat down heavily in the chair he kept near the console, rubbing his bloody face with a hand. What was he to do? Go back to Clara? He didn't even know what time Mr. Clever had visited her at.

'Maybe I didn't visit her,' Mr. Clever ventured. 'You can't possibly know what I did while I had your body. It was very fun, by the way, having it for such a long period of time.'

"Shut up," The Doctor snapped. "Go to sleep or something. I need to sleep sometimes, so you must too."

'Aw, you ruined my chair.' He sounded disappointed. 'How did you do that?'

"None of your business. Go to sleep."

'Fine,' Mr. Clever grumbled. 'I won't bother you until you wake.'

"Yeah right."

The Cyber-Planner fell silent in the middle of the Doctor's words… well, left, really. He didn't truly leave, but his presence felt dampened.

The Doctor once again looked at his body, wondering what had happened.

'What did you do to Clara?'

His question was met with absolute silence. The Doctor rose and tiredly went to clean himself off, trying to devise a way to figure out what had happened. No one hurt Clara and got away with it.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara finds herself in the hospital.

Clara woke to bright light coming in from a window. She closed her eyes again and groaned. She heard a gasp next to her.

"You're awake!"

"Go away, Nina," she mumbled, turning her head away from her friend's voice.

She had come to the conclusion that she was lying in a bed and dressed in a hospital gown. There were sticky patches on her chest, electrodes that monitored her heart. She could hear the machine beeping nearby.

Now realizing that she was in a hospital, she assessed the damage that had been done to her, trying to discern what hurt the most. She had quite a few options: her head, right wrist, hips, ribs, thighs, and lower abdomen all ached and screamed.

"What happened?" Nina asked, obviously still in the room.

"Mr. Clever," Clara answered. She was feeling sleepy, realizing that there was a tube connected to her hand. It was probably administering something to dull her senses.

Clara couldn't remember what had happened after Mr. Clever had jumped out her bedroom window, all nine stories down to the ground below. She had heard him land and scramble away, and then police were rushing into her flat. Her only triumph had been that she had screamed loud enough for someone to hear her and know she was in trouble. She was pretty sure she had fainted before anyone could ask her what had happened.

"The doctors said that there was evidence that he had, um…" her voice lowered, "raped you."

"He did," Clara confirmed. Her heart would have been racing if not for the pain medication. The memory of it nearly sent her into a panic.

"They found some of his blood and they're analyzing it," Nina told her. "They'll know he's not human."

Clara didn't know how to react to this. What would happen if that was discovered? They wouldn't possibly be able to find him even if they did have his blood. He was probably gone by now, off in space or in another time.

"Also, they know that you're pregnant."

"Then they'll know the baby isn't human either. Do they know how far along I am?"

Clara didn't know how to feel about this bit of information. She was relieved that she would finally be getting some answers, but also terrified. What would they do when they discovered what her baby really was? She knew they would. They were doctors, brilliant people. It was only a matter of time.

"Three months. They did a sonogram while you were sleeping. They suspect you have twins."

Clara still had her eyes closed. It was getting harder to move her mouth to speak. Definitely something in the tube.

"Did you phone my dad?"

"Yeah, he's on his way."

Clara managed a smile before all feeling faded. She needed her dad more than anything right now.

 

Clara quickly recovered from the shock of being thrown over Mr. Clever's shoulder and began to smack him with her good hand, legs flailing wildly. He twisted with an angry growl and her head slammed into the wall. The force nearly knocked her unconscious and her vision swirled, her body going limp.

"No. Please, no," she sobbed quietly. She found herself on her bed and she turned away from him, clutching her throbbing head.

"Oh, come now, Clara," he cooed. "What's so bad about all this, hm?" He grabbed her arm and rolled her flat onto her back despite her efforts to fight him. She was weak from fear and pain.

"You're not him," she told him, looking into those eyes again, those eyes that couldn't possibly be the Doctor, her Doctor.

"Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not." Mr. Clever straddled her, trapping her beneath him.

"Get off of me!" She cried, her stomach clenching. Why was this happening to her? This couldn't possibly be happening to her. It was one of those things that she always heard about happening to other people, but she never imagined she could be one of those people.

She lifted her left hand to slap him in the face, but he slammed her arm back down and smacked her. Her face stung and she sobbed.

"The D-Doctor would never do this to me," she said quietly. "He wouldn't hurt me."

"At least not intentionally," Mr. Clever said. One hand held her left arm down while the other caressed her belly. "But it hurts being pregnant, doesn't it? You didn't want this. You're afraid to carry our child, a human-Gallifreyan hybrid. You're afraid of what will happen to you if anybody found out. I could fix it for you."

"Don't you dare touch my baby!"

"You sure?" His hand stilled on her stomach, and he placed pressure on it.

"Please! Don't! It's just a baby! Don't hurt it! Please!" Clara was terrified that he would do something to force the baby out of her, induce a miscarriage or something of the like. Yes, she was scared of being pregnant, but that didn't mean she wanted to get rid of the life inside of her, not before it even had a chance.

"As you wish, Clara." Mr. Clever's hand trailed over her stomach to her breasts, which he fondled with a kind of curiosity. "But I can still have you, yes?"

"Don't touch me." She spit in his face, twisting underneath him, trying to be free of his hands.

"But you let the Doctor touch you." He almost looked crestfallen as he released her left arm to wipe his face. Did he want her to accept him? She wouldn't of course, but it was strange contemplating it.

Clara tried hitting him again once her hand was free, but he once again grabbed it and forced it down.

"Remember what I said about breaking this wrist, sweetheart. I'll still do it." His fingers tightened, almost enough to do just that.

Clara took a deep breath, realizing that fighting was pointless. Her instincts screamed at her to, but she had no control in this position. She was at his mercy.

"Good girl. Not going to hit me, are you?" As a test, he released her hand, and she found that she let it drop to the bed beside her. No. She couldn't fight him. If he was a human, maybe, but his strength was much greater than a human's. No matter what she did, he was going to win.

Mr. Clever used both his hands to tear off her tank top. She tried to cover herself, but she received another stinging slap in the face for her actions.

"What do you find so wrong about me doing this?" Mr. Clever questioned. "You let him do this to you. We have the same body. I was there when he did these things to you, in the back of his head, watching and hungering. I want to feel you for my own, Clara. Why can't you understand that?"

"Because I don't want you," she spat. She felt sick looking into his eyes. They were hungry and lustful, his intent to ravish her very clear. "I don't care if you have the same body. You don't have the same mind."

"You don't know that." His hands were at her breasts again, his fingers pinching at her nipples. Clara arched her back and gave a cry at the pain. All the while, Mr. Clever still looked curious. This experience was completely new to him.

Mr. Clever leaned over her, hands now at her waist. His touch felt so familiar but so wrong all at the same time.

He kissed her forcefully and she grunted in protest, trying to turn her head away. This was wrong. Why did they have to feel and taste like the Doctor's lips when it wasn't him?

One of his hands slipped down into her sweatpants and she jerked when he touched her, feeling completely violated. He wasn't allowed to touch her there, yet he had anyway.

He released her mouth, gasping, his lips seeking out her neck. He bit her and she cried out when she felt the skin tear away. He lapped at her blood before saying, "I'm surprised he hasn't cooked you up and eaten you for dinner. You taste fantastic." His teeth were at her neck again, gnawing on her flesh.

"Ah! Don't do that! Stop it! That hurts!"

Clara twisted and turned, trying to knock him off of her. The fingers between her legs stopped their stroking and pinched her. She was going to scream, but Mr. Clever clamped his other hand over her mouth. All that came out was a muffled imitation of one.

"Do I have to find tape to keep you quiet?" he questioned. He began pulling off her sweatpants and underwear.

Clara bit his finger and he yelped in surprise, pulling his hand back and lifting his weight off of her. She saw this as an opportunity to escape and she rolled off the bed, landing on the floor with a thump. She tried getting to her feet to run, but became tangled in her clothes.

"I see," he said, coming over and easily lifting her up. "Clothes bothering you?"

"No! Put me down!" She thrashed her limbs wildly, but once again found herself on the bed, now completely free of clothing.

"Come now, Clara." A hand went to her throat where he gripped tight enough to keep her from uttering a word. "You should be enjoying this as much as I am."

Clara closed her eyes as she heard him undoing his belt, telling herself she could get through this. All she had to do was wait until he was done.

"Doctor, please," she pleaded quietly. "I know you're in there. Please."

She tried in vain to keep her legs shut as Mr. Clever gripped her thighs and tried to pry them open. His grip was crushing and painful.

"No," she sobbed. "No. I don't want this."

"Sadly for you, Clara, I do."

He entered her body and she shrieked.

 

Clara gasped awake, jerking into a sitting position so fast that her injuries ached. She felt a hand holding hers and the grip tightened, but in a comforting manner.

"Clara?"

She looked to the side and found her dad sitting in the chair that Nina had occupied last she had woken. His dark eyes, so much like her own, were sorrowful and watery, as if he had the urge to cry. She had only seen her father cry once, and she didn't want to see it again.

"Hi, daddy." She gave his hand a squeeze.

"Are you alright? What happened? The doctors told me that-"

"Don't say it. Please, don't say it."

"Okay." He looked at her very seriously. "Y-You know that you're pregnant, right?"

Clara nodded her head.

"How-? Who-?" Dave kept interrupting his own questions, seemingly stunned and unsure of what to say. "When did this happen? They say you might be three months along with twins."

Twins? It hadn't registered when Nina had said it before, but now it was making a little more sense. Did she have two babies? Or was it one with two hearts?

Clara just shook her head, not knowing how to answer. There was no way she could explain all this to her father. He would think she was insane.

"Clara?"

"I don't want to talk about it. I'm just glad you're here."

She leaned back on her pillows, feeling herself drifting off again. Her head pounded. Maybe she had a concussion. It was rather likely.

"The police want to talk to you, honey," Dave told her.

"Later," she mumbled, eyes drifting shut. "Sleep. Head hurts."

The last thing she felt was her father placing a kiss on her forehead, his hand still gripping hers.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara is interviewed by the police. She tells her dad about the Doctor.

The police asked Clara a lot of questions that she didn't know how to answer. If she told the truth, they would think she was a lunatic, but she wasn't very good at lying. It would be easily detectable if she tried.

"Clara, I just want to know his name," the female police officer said. Officer Jenkins, she had introduced herself as. Clara was glad for her presence, the male officer, Bradford, making her feel uneasy. He seemed compassionate towards her situation, but the fact that he was a man…

"I told you, I don't know his name," Clara said. "He just calls himself…" She paused. Should she say the Doctor, or Mr. Clever?

"What is it, Clara?"

"He calls himself Mr. Clever." Yes, that was better. The Doctor hadn't done this to her. Mr. Clever had.

Bradford snorted and Jenkins gave him a sharp look.

"Not much of a name if you ask me," he said. "Sounds funny actually."

"It's not funny." Clara's tone was icy. Was this man dismissing her situation?

"Okay, okay, I know. Sorry. What did he look like? Did you know him?"

"Yes, well, no. I've met him before, but I don't know him. As for a description, there's no point. You'll never find him."

"Clara, it's our job to find him," Jenkins said.

"But you won't. It's impossible."

"Why is that?"

Clara chewed her bottom lip, not sure how to respond.

'Fine. They can call me crazy.'

"He's probably off in space, or something," she said. "Usually is."

Jenkins furrowed her brows and Bradford looked like he was about to roll his eyes. Clara knew she never had a chance of winning him over anyway, but maybe Jenkins…

"Most of the time he's a man called the Doctor," she started explaining. "But he got something implanted into his head, like a parasite. Mr. Clever is the parasite, the Doctor is the real man."

"And who is this Doctor?"

"He's not really a doctor," Clara clarified. "But he does save people. He's not human."

Jenkins shared a concerned look with Bradford, who just shrugged.

'And now they think I'm crazy.'

"So Clara, you're telling us you were raped by a schizophrenic alien who doesn't have a real name?" Jenkins asked.

Clara sighed in frustration, wishing these people would just leave. She was tired. The doctors had confirmed that she had a concussion.

"He doesn't have a multi-personality disorder. He got Mr. Clever put into his head. He's really a piece of technology called a Cyber-Planner. They try to take over the brain and use the host's body. He got it when we came in contact with Cybermen on-"

"Clara, slow down. Take a deep breath."

Clara did just that, realizing that she had started to ramble. It must have sounded like complete nonsense to them.

"You seem tired," Jenkins said. She leaned forward and patted her on her good hand. "We'll come back another time."

The two police officers exited the room and Clara was left on her own. She flopped back on her pillows, feeling frustrated and angry. Of course they wouldn't believe her, but they had to! Why did the truth have to sound so impossible?

Rolling to the side on her good arm, Clara closed her eyes. She needed to sleep, hopefully with no nightmares.\

 

Dave was there when she woke, claiming he had some information that might shock her. She realized that the doctors and forensic scientists had discovered something that she already knew, but she listened anyway.

"You're attacker – his DNA isn't human. It's never been seen before, but…" He licked his lips and looked her earnestly in the eyes. "Your babies also have that DNA."

"I know," she said.

"What?"

"I already knew that."

"How?"

"You wouldn't believe me," Clara said. "I tried telling the police, but they obviously didn't believe my story. I didn't make it up."

"Then tell me. I'll listen to whatever you have to say."

Clara shook her head. She wasn't going to let her dad think she was crazy too. She couldn't do that to him. The truth was too much.

"Come on, Clara," he pleaded. "It'll be fine. I promise."

"You don't know that. What if the doctors do something to me, knowing that my baby's not human?" She was terrified now that they knew. She found her hands clutching protectively at her abdomen. It was sore, probably from the needle they had no doubt shoved into her while she was sleeping. She hadn't given them consent to do that, to test the baby's DNA. It scared her even more.

"Clara, they're pretty sure you're having twins."

"And I'm pretty sure I'm not," she said.

"Then what would explain the two heartbeats?" He looked confounded as he searched for a possibility.

"Binary cardiovascular system," Clara answered. "Two hearts."

"Clara, that's impossible."

"No it's not. The father has two hearts." She quickly clamped her mouth shut, realizing that she had said too much.

"What do you mean? Who is he? Was he a boyfriend that you broke up with? He got angry and he attacked you?"

Clara shook her head, frustrated tears coming to her eyes.

"I can't tell you, daddy. You'll think I'm crazy. I don't want you to think I'm crazy."

"Clara, honey, I'm not going to think that. I just want to know what's going on."

Taking a deep breath, Clara grudgingly gave him the same story she had told the police. The truth. Her father seemed at a loss when she finished.

Finally, he spoke, but his words boiled anger and desperation inside of her.

"How bad did the doctors say the concussion was?"

"Dad, this isn't something I'm telling you 'cause I hit my head!" she snapped. "It's the truth! All of it!"

"I'm sorry. I just… don't see how it could be."

"Dad, I need you to believe me. Please, be on my side."

"How can I be if I have no idea what's going on?"

"I just told you!" If she wasn't hurt, she would have jumped out of the bed to shake some sense into him.

'Hold on a second.'

"Dad," she said, her voice quieter. "Could you go to my flat and get my laptop? It should be next to my bed."

"Why?"

"There are some pictures I need to show you. Maybe then you'll change your mind."

"Okay. I'll be back." He leaned forward, gave her a kiss on the forehead, and then left.

Clara sat, tapping the fingers of her left hand nervously, waiting for him to return. The pain in her body was quickly draining her strength, but she would wait for him.

After a few minutes, a woman with her blonde hair tied in a ponytail walked in. She held a clipboard and wore a white lab coat.

"Hi, Clara." She reached out a hand to shake, then realized that her wrist was broken. She quickly placed it back at the clipboard. "I'm Dr. Chenoweth. I was called to give you a psychological evaluation."

Clara tensed up. It wasn't a good sign that they were giving her this evaluation after what she had told the police. She looked out the window, wondering what time it was, what day, even. Too much seemed to be happening and all she was doing was sitting in a hospital bed.

"May I?" She gestured to sit in the chair that her dad had vacated.

Clara knew that she was going to sit no matter her response, so she just nodded her head anyway. Better to seem compliant.

Dr. Chenoweth crossed her legs after sitting, looking at her clipboard, then back at her.

"Now, I was concerned with some of the things you told the police. The doctors said that you didn't hit your head hard enough to induce hallucinations and that there were no drugs in your system that could have caused it. I just want an explanation. I'd like to hear the story for myself."

'So you can decide whether or not I'm crazy.'

Clara, despite her thoughts, braced herself and told the story for the third time, trying to fill in any holes she had missed during the earlier tellings.

"How did you know a parasite had latched onto his brain? Were there any physical signs, or was it just a personality change?" Dr. Chenoweth seemed genuinely curious. Maybe she would see her reasoning. Or… probably not. She was a psychologist. She would have been trained to treat someone who talked about things like this as mentally ill. Clara found herself answering anyway.

"He has metal drilled into the left side of his face."

The woman looked shocked and she wrote it down. She had taken notes throughout Clara's story.

"Thank you for letting me speak with you, Clara," she said, rising. "I'll see you after I've finished analyzing all of this."

'After you've decided I'm crazy and found a medication safe for pregnant women.'

"Thank you for listening." Clara couldn't smile back at the woman. It would look too forced.

Her father entered as soon as Dr. Chenoweth left, looking like he had been waiting outside, probably for quite some time. He had her laptop gripped in two hands.

"Got this for you." He placed it down on her lap and opened it for her, then switched it on. He knew it would be hard for her to operate it with only one hand functional.

Clara scrolled through the pictures on her hard drive, stopping on particular ones of her and the Doctor, (and sometimes the TARDIS,) to show them to her father. She explained each one of them as well.

"And this man's your boyfriend?" he asked, looking at a black and white photo of her and the Doctor standing in front of the Arc de Triomph in Paris. He had an arm around her and was smiling brightly at the camera. She, on the other hand, hadn't been able to focus on the camera, not while she had been in 19th century Paris.

"Yes. And the father of my baby."

"I'm happy for you, Clara." He looked at her and she saw the sincerity in his eyes. He actually believed her. He actually was happy for her.

"Thank you, dad." She found herself tearing up. It felt so good to have her father believe her. He still seemed slightly skeptical, but mostly won over. That could work for her, especially when hardly anybody else believed the story.

"I wish you had told me about this before… all this happened. We should be sitting in your parlour and drinking tea while chatting over it, not here, in this hospital room."

"And you do understand that it wasn't him who did this, right?" Clara needed to be sure that her father didn't blame the Doctor for any of this.

"Of course I do. The man in these pictures-" he gestured to the laptop, "Could never do something like this. His eyes don't show that he has the capability. He looks sad, but happy at the same time."

"He's the last of his species," Clara explained.

"How did that happen?"

"I don't know." Though she loved and trusted her father, she wasn't going to tell him about Gallifrey. The Doctor had given it to her with the utmost trust. She couldn't just go blabbing about all of it.

"Could you talk to the doctors?" she asked. "Try to explain about him and the baby? It might be helpful if you talked to the police too. And with these pictures-"

"The police will think all these were photo shopped," he said wistfully. "And maybe the doctors too. It might look like you're trying too hard at a lie if I show them these."

Clara was going to make a snappy retort, but then realized that he was right. The pictures would only make it worse.

"Try to talk to them at least. Maybe a different voice will make them see reason."

"Funny how seeing reason is believing in an alien with a flying blue box," her dad said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Clara gave a little giggle. He was right. Why did truth and reason have to sound so ridiculous?

"Thank you, dad."

"Anything for you, baby girl. Now, you need your rest." He got up to leave.

"Dad, wait."

"What is it?"

"I don't think I tell you this enough, so, I love you."

"Oh, Clara," he said, coming over. "You tell me almost every day. Not necessarily with words, but you show it. You have such a kind heart." He smiled knowingly. "And I'm sure your child will have two of those."


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor interrogates Mr. Clever.

"Why can't we go back to playing chess?" Mr. Clever whined. "I want to finish the game!" He was currently tied up and sitting in the chair across from the Doctor, squirming against the ropes. "Take your turn already."

"Not until you tell me what you did to Clara."

"I never said anything about touching your precious human. And so what if I did? She's just a pet, isn't she?"

"No, she's a lot more than that." The Doctor clenched his hands into fists. He was quickly growing impatient with the Cyber-Planner. He had come here determined to get an answer out of him, not to lose at a game of chess.

"Really? Did you ever tell her that?"

The Doctor ground his teeth in frustration. He had told Clara how much he cared about her, but every time she had asked about being his pet, he had remained silent. He knew saying 'no' was a lie. He did care about her, but sometimes she was a pet. Sometimes all he wanted was someone to drag along with him and show off to.

"That doesn't matter," he finally said. "I want to know what you did to her."

"How do you know that I did something to her?"

"I heard her calling for me." The Doctor rose from his chair and strode over to the Cyber-Planner. "She wanted me because of what you were doing to her."

"Fine. I did something to Clara."

"I already knew that," he sneered. "Now tell me what it was."

"No."

The Doctor raised a hand and slapped him in the face. It felt good to hit him. He hadn't done that to someone in quite a long time.

"Tell me!"

"Not unless you can hit harder. I barely felt that."

"Oh, so you want me to hit you?" the Doctor asked, raising his hand.

Mr. Clever shrugged, seeming rather indifferent about the whole situation. "Go ahead."

"You're still not going to answer my question, though."

"No. Probably not."

With a wordless shout of rage, the Doctor slammed his hand into his face, sending him, and the chair, tumbling to the floor.

Mr. Clever attempted to sit up, the ropes hindering him. He was bleeding from a cut at the right corner of his mouth.

The Doctor stalked forward and grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, hauling him up to look him in the eyes.

"Tell me! Tell me what you did to her!"

"No." Mr. Clever gave him a stern glare.

The Doctor dumped him on the floor and tiredly sat down, rubbing at his face. Was there no way to get this out of him? He wasn't going to check on Clara until he was sure of what had happened. He wanted to know the situation before walking into it.

There was a silence that hung heavy in the air. The Doctor could feel the Cyber-Planner considering him, but he didn't lift his head to look.

"All this over a human being, Doctor?" Mr. Clever asked. His voice wasn't taunting, more genuine than the Doctor had heard it before. "Why?"

"You think I'm going to tell you?"

"Well, maybe I don't understand."

"I don't care."

"I'll tell you what I did to her if you tell me why you care so much. You must want her for something other than a pet."

The Doctor lifted his head to meet Mr. Clever's gaze. He merely looked curious, but there was a sinister depth to his eyes. He could be taking advantage of him.

"What if we both left each other in the dark?"

"You hate walking into a situation blind," Mr. Clever responded. "I doubt you're just going to walk away from this one."

"I'm not. I'll find another way to get it out of you."

"I'm not telling you unless I know why it's so important. What is it about Clara?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me, Doctor." His eyes flared with anger.

"You can't make demands of me." The Doctor stood and began pacing in front of where Mr. Clever sat on the floor. "You're the one tied up at my feet."

"In a way, you're the one tied up. I'm in your head and I'm not leaving."

"Yes, you are!"

"You think you can possibly win?" Mr. Clever sneered. "Look at the board, Doctor! Look at the pieces in your face! At a point like this, you think you can win?" He shook his head, chuckling in dark amusement. "No. I'm going to win this time! Not you! Me!"

"What makes you so sure of it?" the Doctor asked quietly, stopping his pacing to look down at the Cyber-Planner. His hearts thumped wildly.

"Because of the way you're playing," Mr. Clever answered.

"What do you mean? I'm being just as clever as you are."

"You're playing the game like you want me to win it," he said. "Look at the board. Look at all the pieces. You've set up a perfect trap for yourself."

The Doctor's eyes glanced over to the chessboard, analyzing it.

'He's right!'

"Not intentionally."

"No. I didn't think so. But you subconsciously want me to win."

"No I don't! You're trying to manipulate me and I'm going to tell you something right now! It won't work!"

"But it is working." His voice was cool and even. "I have a piece to play with, but I just don't know why. Why has Clara become a game piece?"

"She's not. I won't let that happen."

"But you already have. Look at how you're reacting to what I've done. And you don't even know what I've done."

The Doctor pursed his lips in thought, not sure how to respond. He was right. Clara had inadvertently become a piece in their game. He had tried to stop that by sending her home, but it had proved useless. Mr. Clever had known where she was and had dragged her back into it.

'I'm sorry, Clara. I don't want this for you.'

"Then tell me." His voice was quiet. "What did you do?"

"Tell me why you care for a human. Humans are nothing compared to us, Doctor. Their lives are a miniscule speck on the course of ours. Nothing. They are so short-lived, so weak, yet you lower yourself as to care about one of them." Mr. Clever said it all as if it was the most disgusting thing he could imagine.

"Caring about a human is not self-degrading," the Doctor told him. "Would you like me to place myself above everything? Become a god?"

"Yes, Doctor," Mr. Clever said with a sly smile. "And you've done it before, haven't you? You struggle with the knowledge that you are far greater than most beings. Why don't you just accept it? Live like you are higher than everyone else. It would be the truth. Stop walking in a lie. That's all you do. Lies, lies, lies."

"No."

"Still lying. Lying, lying, lying!" Mr. Clever sang.

The Doctor turned his back on Mr. Clever, frustrated, bristling with anger. The fact that made it worse was that he was right. Sometimes he had the urge to place himself above humans, above all others. He could. He was a Time Lord. He was better than the rest of them. But then again, he wasn't. He misused power when it was given to him, took advantage of those beneath him and made them suffer. That's what he had done to Gallifrey. He shouldn't have taken the fate of all those lives into his hands like he was a god, like he was their creator. He hadn't given any of them a choice. He had just done it.

"You know what I mean, don't you? I can feel it. You know I'm right."

"But you shouldn't be," the Doctor breathed. "I shouldn't be like this. I shouldn't think of others beneath me."

"Yet you do."

"I know that!" He whipped around to face Mr. Clever with the shout. "Just shut up!"

"You'd probably have to duct tape my mouth shut to get that to happen," Mr. Clever said, still smiling. He seemed amused by the whole situation.

The Doctor sat down again, heavily, the chair creaking underneath him.

"If you want to talk so much, tell me what you did to Clara."

"Why can't we talk about something else?"

"Tell me!"

"Why do you care?"

"Because I love her!"

The room fell silent except for his shout ringing against the walls. Mr. Clever looked stunned. He looked down at the floor, thinking.

No. I revealed too much.

"Well, then, Doctor, you're going to hate me even more than you already do."

"I doubt that."

"I raped Clara."

"What?!" The Doctor rose and grabbed the Cyber-Planner by his jacket, lifting him up towards him.

"I found her and I attacked her. At first I tried to be you, but then I realized it might be more fun if she saw that it was me. She resisted, of course. That's why you had that cut on your arm. Slashed our body with a knife. You should be mad at her for that."

"The only person I'm mad at is you! She was defending herself!

A cruel laugh bubbled up from Mr. Clever's throat. "How useless that was. I forced myself upon her and made her scream. I made her cry for her Doctor. And all the while, I knew you were stuck right where I had left you." The smile on his face was disturbing, terrifying.

"How could you?!" the Doctor screamed in rage. He threw Mr. Clever into the wall with all the force he could muster. He heard the wood and plaster crack at the impact.

He slid to the floor, looking dazed, unable to move because of the ropes tied around him.

"I was jealous," he gasped out. "I saw and heard the things you did to her and I wanted to give it a go."

The Doctor felt even more violated than he already did. It was bad enough having something else in his mind, but the fact that it had seen him doing that… He nearly shuddered.

"Only I get to do those things. With her consent. You obviously didn't have it."

"No. You're right. I didn't."

"But that doesn't matter to you, does it?" he sneered, feeling horrified and disgusted.

"Maybe it does, Doctor. I'm not as heartless as I seem."

"Oh, yes you are."

"Maybe I want her to accept me just as much as she accepts you," Mr. Clever said. He looked… upset, sad. Was that even possible? "Because I'm part of you. I am you."

"No you're not."

"Then why do we have the same face?"

"You aren't going to divert my attention from what you did to Clara." He crouched down in front of him. "I'm going to make you pay."


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor visits Clara in the hospital.

The Doctor was sore and aching when he woke. He didn't know why. He had been the one beating Mr. Clever, not the other way around, but it felt as if he had his injuries.

He sat up with a groan, pressing a hand to his head. It hurt right where Mr. Clever had hit the wall.

'This doesn't make sense. This shouldn't be happening. Why am I feeling his pain?'

Something the Cyber-Planner had said popped into his head.

'I am you.'

"No," he muttered. "No, no, no. That can't be possible! It can't be!" Horror made his hearts thud rapidly against his ribcage.

"You're a piece of technology," he said. "You're not me. I'm not you. I'm a Time Lord and you're a Cyber-Planner."

'What if the Cyber-Planner is gone, but I'm not? What if I was only helping it take over your mind?'

"But you were never there before," the Doctor hissed. "You were never in my head."

'Suppose I was. Suppose… that I've always been here. You would find a way to block me out, yes? Find a way to forget me and hide me from yourself?'

The Doctor worked his jaw as he thought, quickly regretting it due to the flash of pain it brought. He was right. He had done it countless times before: locked something away in his mind where even he couldn't find it.

'And the Cyber-Planner was supposed to take over your mind,' Mr. Clever continued. 'To understand it. Perhaps that's what brought me out.'

"You're trying to trick me," the Doctor said. "You want me to feel sympathy towards you. I won't do it!"

'Not even when you're feeling my pain? Come now, Doctor. Are you just going to ignore this?'

"Yes, I am. You could have just placed your pain in my body. You are in my head. You could be in control of that."

'Smart, but incorrect.'

"Definitely trying to trick me." He got out of bed and began searching for clothes.

'No I'm not. Maybe you just don't like the truth.'

"Quiet. I'm busy."

'Where are we going, Doctor?'

"To see Clara. I would appreciate it if you kept quiet."

'You forgot to duct tape my mouth shut.'

The Doctor growled low in anger, but didn't speak. Mr. Clever was just trying to aggravate him. Arguing would get him nowhere.

"Now, what time did you visit her at? We wouldn't want to cross our own time stream, now would we?"

 

Clara looked at the bottle of pills in her hand, then at Dr. Chenoweth.

"I don't need these," she said, giving the bottle a shake.

"Clara, it's just for anxiety," she told her. "You've been through a traumatic experience and I think your mind has created a story that might make it seem better. The police gathered that this must have been a boyfriend that you broke up with and that he grew angry. You're in denial that he would do this to you."

Clara shook her head. "No. No! Why won't any of you listen to me?!"

"Clara, you need to relax."

"Not until one of you listens to me! Didn't the doctors tell you that the DNA they found from his blood isn't human? The very same DNA that they found in my baby?"

Dr. Chenoweth pursed her lips. "Clara…"

"There's proof for you! There's evidence! You just don't want to believe it because it seems too impossible."

"They told you this, Clara?"

"Yes!"

"Let me go confirm that." She left the room.

'Please tell her about the DNA. Please, please.'

Dr. Chenoweth came back into the room, her demeanor the same as when she had left. Did that mean…?

"They said the DNA is perfectly normal."

Despair fell heavily into Clara's stomach. That wasn't possible. They had lied. They wanted her to look like she was crazy.

"I know that's not true," she pleaded. "The father-"

"Is the same man that raped you," Dr. Chenoweth cut in. "You just want to believe in something else to make it hurt less."

"That's not true." Her voice was quiet, weak. "Please, I'm telling the truth."

"I know you feel like you are, Clara," she said sympathetically. "We're going to monitor your condition for a few days on that medication, but if it doesn't improve…" She trailed off, her eyes sad.

"What? What is it?"

"You're going to have to be admitted to the mental ward if this continues. I'm sorry, Clara. I know you're not trying to do this."

"But…" Clara didn't know what to say. Tears stung her eyes. Yet another battle that she couldn't win. She was being oppressed by everyone around her. No one would believe her.

"I'm sorry, dear." She patted her good hand and left the room.

Clara sobbed loudly, leaning forward and covering her face in her hands. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't possibly be happening.

"Please, Doctor," she sobbed. "I need you. Please. Come and explain all this. Help me."

 

The lady at the front desk almost didn't let the Doctor in to go see Clara. He could understand why. She had probably been informed to be wary of men asking to see her. She seemed suspicious of his psychic paper ID too. Maybe the name 'John Smith' was too normal.

'Oh, well. At least it worked.'

He had to ask for directions a few times to find her room: 406. It was on the fourth floor of the hospital, which was bustling with all sorts of different people.

With the new addition of metal, the Doctor had been forced to grow out his hair even more. He had tried to style it as best as he could, but he still thought he looked what kids on Earth would call 'emo.'

Upon arriving at her room, he found her asleep. He felt sad looking at what Mr. Clever had done to her. Her hair looked dirty, as if she hadn't been able to shower. Her lips were bruised and swollen, her right wrist in a cast. He managed a smile when he saw that it was the same blue as his TARDIS. She must have asked for it that way.

"Oh, Clara," he sighed, sitting in the chair next to her bed and taking her good hand in his. "I'm sorry he did this to you. I'm sorry I couldn't stop it. I tried to get out, you know." He found himself absentmindedly stroking the back of her hand with his fingers. "I'm so sorry."

'Oh, Doctor, you must be devastated at the state that she's in, Mr. Clever teased.'

The Doctor gritted his teeth in irritation. 'I told you to be quiet while I was visiting her.'

'Right. Sorry. Not sorry.'

The Doctor just shook his head and tried to tune him out. It would do him no good listening to him.

The nurse who came in to check on her a few minutes later looked startled when she saw him sitting there.

"Who are you?" she asked, now seeming frightened. A strange man in the patient's hospital room had been bound to do that.

"Oh, I'm the Doctor." He stood and held out his hand to shake. She just looked at it suspiciously, not taking it.

"Doctor who?"

He almost laughed at the question, having heard it so many times. Mr. Clever didn't try to contain his amusement though. The Doctor tried to block out his fit of giggles so he could focus.

"No, no. Just… the Doctor."

'Maybe I should have introduced myself as John Smith.'

Her eyes went wide, but she cleared her throat to compose herself. "Could you come with me please?"

"Of course."

She led him over to a receptionist desk on that level. He wasn't quite sure what she was up to.

"You have the numbers for officers Jenkins and Bradford, right?" she asked one of the women working there.

"Yes, why?"

"I just found this man in Clara Oswald's room," the nurse responded, gesturing to him. "He claims to be the Doctor. Could you call them and get them over here?"

The receptionist gave a nod and picked up the phone.

"Why are you calling the police?" the Doctor inquired as he and the nurse stepped away from the desk. "I didn't do anything."

"They'll want to speak with you to better understand Clara's story," the nurse said. "Could you wait here, please? I have to go check on her." She quickly left, looking happy to be free from his presence. The receptionists, on the other hand, looked uneasy.

He gave them a reassuring smile and stuck his hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall and humming to himself. Best to look innocent.

After a few minutes, he checked the watch on his wrist, wondering how long he had been there. It was 3:52. The watch instantly adjusted to the time of the place he was in.

The Doctor despised waiting. He considered going to his TARDIS and going to a few minutes later, but he decided against it. What if the two officers showed up and he wasn't there?

After what felt like an eternity to him, two people dressed in blue uniforms appeared in the hallway. One was a woman, tall, blonde, and lean. The other was a buff, middle-aged man that looked like he could take on a whole team of wrestlers. His appearance didn't sit well in the Doctor's stomach.

"Hello, officers," he greeted them cheerfully, eying their badges. The woman was Jenkins and the man was Bradford.

"You were apparently found in Miss Oswald's room," Jenkins said.

'Good, straight to the point.'

"Yes. I wanted to see how she was doing. I'm the Doctor." He shook their hands, though they seemed rather unwilling, nearly keeping their arms at their sides.

"That's it?" Bradford questioned. "Just… the Doctor?"

"Mmhmm." He gave a nod, folding his hands behind his back and bouncing on his heels.

Bradford and Jenkins exchanged looks, seemingly unsure of what to think. Had Clara tried telling them about him and they didn't believe her? Had she told them about Mr. Clever?

'Oh well. Can't be angry at her for that.'

"Could you show us the left side of your face, please?" Jenkins asked. Her voice was sweet, but her eyes said that it was a command. A command that the Doctor didn't want to follow.

"Excuse me?"

"The left side of your face," she reiterated. "You're covering it with your hair."

"Oh, yes, I'm sorry." He promptly showed them the right side of his face.

"That's the right side," Bradford said sternly. He seemed to have little patience.

"What? Really?" The Doctor pretended to act shocked. "I'm so sorry. Tend to get the two confused. I've been to a planet where there was no left or right. Just a bunch of…" He wiggled his arms in front of him as a form of explanation.

Bradford grabbed him by the shirt and jerked him forward with a surprised yelp and shoved his hair out of his face, revealing the metal drilled into his skull.

'Yep. Should have expected that.'

"What is this?" He tapped it roughly and the Doctor winced, trying to ease out of the big man's grip. He wouldn't let go.

"Long story," he said. "Quite a bit of explaining to do. Sure you wouldn't want to hear it. It's awfully tedious and boring."

"Sounds fine to me." Bradford released him, but only for Jenkins to come forward and lock handcuffs around his wrists. "Let's get you back to the station, where we can have a proper conversation."


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Clever is interrogated by the police.

Mr. Clever tapped his fingers on the table in front of him, the handcuffs clinking with each movement. The room was lit by only one light that happened to be pointed at him. It was small, made of concrete, and cold. The only things in it were the light, the table, two chairs, and him. He looked over at one wall that held a panel of glass. It was supposed to be one-way glass, so that he couldn't see the people watching him, but it didn't work on his eyes. He could see through it just as well as the people on the other side could. Currently, there were three people in the adjacent room, two men and a woman. Police officers, he had heard them called. Jenkins, Bradford, and the chief of police. He was an older man, his face lined with wrinkles and his hair steel gray, but he didn't look like he should be underestimated. There was an intelligence to his dark eyes.

He looked down at the chain that attached him to the table and gave it an experimental tug. He had grasped control of the body to find himself here, not really surprised that the Doctor had let himself be caught so easily. If it had been up to him, he wouldn't be here.

'Don't say anything too irrational,' the Doctor said, his voice was pleading. 'Try to find a way out of this.'

Mr. Clever didn't respond to the Doctor's voice in his head. He wanted to put him on edge, to let him think that he was going to do just the opposite. He hadn't really figured out what he was going to do yet. It all depended on what happened when the officers came through that door.

And finally, one of them did, the big man, Bradford. He sat down in the chair across from him, eying him sternly.

"There are no records of you anywhere," he told him. "Didn't think there would be. We've checked already."

"Then why did you waste your time with that? Thought they would magically appear when you found me?"

Bradford frowned, but then spoke. "What's your real name?"

"Mr. Clever."

"I thought you said that you were the Doctor."

"I am, and he's me, but I'm Mr. Clever right now. The Doctor had to go rest for a bit. He's right in here." He leaned forward and tapped his head with a finger.

"Where are you from? Any current residence?"

"I'm from a planet you'll have never heard about and my current residence is anywhere that I want to be. You see, I have a machine called the TARDIS that can travel anywhere in space and time."

'Don't go claiming that as yours!' The Doctor snapped bitterly.

"Fine, fine. Actually, it's not my TARDIS, it's the Doctor's."

"TARIDS?" He looked horribly confused.

Mr. Clever sighed. The human mind was so much weaker than his own. He felt pity for any of the Cyber-Planners that had been forced into one.

"Time and Relative Dimensions in Space," he clarified.

"You're a loon."

"Am I?" Mr. Clever raised his eyebrows, feeling slightly insulted. This oaf of an organism had the gall to try and insult him? "Now, I thought you were here to question me, not insult me."

Bradford grumbled something under his breath that sounded a bit like another insult and Mr. Clever smiled. He was making this human edgy.

"So, you know of Clara Oswald? What is your relation to her?"

"None, though if the Doctor were here he would say something different. I just wanted to spend some time with her. Got a little jealous, you see." He paused, thinking. "And the Doctor, well, he would probably call her a, uh, girlfriend." He said the word as if it had a terrible taste on his tongue. He still didn't understand how the Doctor could have feelings for something that was so fragile and witless. The fragile part, he had easily figured out on his own. He smiled remembering the image of her in the hospital bed, bruised and tiny and weak.

Bradford gritted his teeth in anger. "Are you going to say anything coherent? Because this is making no sense!"

"Oh, it makes perfect sense. You're just too slow of mind to realize that. Maybe I'll be more cooperative with the pretty one. Jenkins, right? Cassandra, I'm pretty sure her first name is." He gave her a wink through the glass and she seemed startled to realize that he could see right through it.

"No," Bradford said. "You're talking to me."

Mr. Clever sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair as if he was lounging.

"Fine. If you insist."

"Our forensic scientists believed that they found some of your blood at the scene," he began. "Some analysis showed that the DNA wasn't human. Are you human?"

"Nope, and proud of it." He leaned forward again. "Humans are worthless scum. You should be kneeling to me, honored to be in my presence, yet you have the nerve to chain me to this table. Who says I can't get out right now?"

"You would have gotten out earlier if you had the ability."

"Really? Maybe I was just waiting around to see how this conversation went."

He flinched as he felt the Doctor trying to regain control of the body, but he shoved him away. He seemed to be angry that he was insulting this human and speaking down to the race as a whole.

'Oh well, Doctor. Get used to it.'

'Let me do the talking. I'll get us out of this.'

'Hush. I'm busy.'

"What are you, if you're not human?" Bradford asked. He seemed more curious than offended.

"Why should I give you the privilege of that knowledge?"

Bradford stood, looking flustered and angry. He left the room without a word, the door slamming behind him.

Mr. Clever watched the discussion he was having with the two other people behind the glass. Jenkins often looked over at him, seeming disturbed. He gave her a smile and her face whitened.

'Well, you handled that beautifully,' the Doctor mocked.

'And what do you want me to do?'

The Doctor had no response to this. Mr. Clever knew that he wouldn't. It had been a while since he had encountered a situation so complicated. He didn't have any idea of what to do either.

After a few minutes, Jenkins and Bradford left and the chief entered the room. Mr. Clever gave his mind a slight poke to find out his name, and the man visibly winced at the bit of contact, rubbing at his head. He would only think that he had a head ache.

"Oh, good to see you, Jared," Mr. Clever said. "Where did you send those other two off to?"

"It's Captain Gregory to you," he demanded, sitting down across from him and folding his hands on the table. He didn't look to be the least bit unnerved, but Mr. Clever could sense that he was.

"I'm sorry, Captain. Forgot the formality. Didn't know humans had that."

"So, you call yourself Mr. Clever. Seems rather narcissistic of you."

"What's so narcissistic about the truth, Gregory? I am clever, if you haven't at all noticed."

"And the Doctor, why does he call himself that?"

'Finally!' The Doctor breathed. 'Someone who's recognizing us as two different people.'

"It's a bit like a promise really," Mr. Clever explained. "He chose the name years ago, vowing to help people instead of hurting them."

"And you went against that promise."

"But it wasn't my promise. It was his. We don't have the same moral values, Captain."

"Do you even have any?"

"Not sure." Mr. Clever shrugged. "Haven't had enough experience with it. Morals seem terribly boring though. Having Clara all to myself was fun."

"For you, maybe, but you put her in the hospital." The man seemed disgusted by him, the fact that he had done such a thing.

"Aw, well, everything comes with consequences."

"Yes, it certainly does. You know you could be put in prison for this."

Mr. Clever snorted in disbelief. "What would you do? Take me to court? You would be seen as crazy, Captain. That's what they see Clara as. That's how you see me."

"You've confessed to your crimes. This doesn't have to go to court."

"Ooh… Taking all this authority into your own hands. I like it. Do you think you would be able to deal with me?" He gave the Captain a smile that should have sent a chill up his spine.

The door suddenly opened and a man in a white lab coat walked in, holding a small tray that he placed on the table. It held a needle, three small vials, some gauze, and a tourniquet.

"What's this about?" he asked, eying the two people in the room suspiciously.

"We want a blood sample," the man who had just entered answered. He was young, probably in his early thirties. "Just to confirm what was found at the scene."

"You have the impudence to stick me with a needle?" Mr. Clever asked, slightly amused. These humans really did have such tiny minds. He chuckled. "Oh, you're too much."

"We want to know what you are," Captain Gregory explained, drawing his attention back to him. The other man was rolling up his sleeve.

"Could you put your hand into a fist for me?"

Mr. Clever did as he asked. It wouldn't be good to make him uneasy.

"A simple blood sample will not provide all the information you want," he said. He winced as the needle pricked his arm. Did he really have to shove it in so forcefully?

"For now, it will. We'll hold you in prison until the government gets wind of this. After that, they might know what to do with you."

'Don't let him take our blood,' the Doctor shouted in his mind. 'We can't let them have more of that information!'

With that, Mr. Clever gave an angry snarl and whipped his head to the side, biting down hard on the hand of the man who was drawing his blood. He gave a yelp and the needle jerked inside of him painfully, striking a nerve and sending a stab of pain through his body. The man tried to pull back, but he clamped his jaws down hard, loving the taste and warmth of the blood in his mouth.

"Get him off of me!" he shouted, dropping the vial which cracked to pieces on the ground, the blood in it spilling on the floor.

There were hands on his face and then he was shoved away, the chair nearly falling over as he was thrown back into it. He licked the blood from his lips, then glared at the captain, who had his back turned, examining the other man's injury.

"Would you be able to finish drawing his blood before we get you medical attention?" he questioned. Mr. Clever felt proud when he saw the imprint of his teeth in his bleeding flesh. "I'll hold him back."

The man gave a silent nod of his head and the two went over to him. Captain Gregory held his head firmly away from him in two hands and the needle was readjusted, a new vial connected to it. Mr. Clever struggled against them, trying to move his head and kick out at the man drawing his blood. Sadly, his feet were chained to the chair he was sitting in.

'No!' The Doctor cried. 'No! Stop them!'

'You think I didn't try?'

After about a minute or so, it was done. The needle was removed from his arm and the tourniquet untied. Captain Gregory left with the other man, probably to make sure that he got help and that the vials were delivered safely.

The captain came back, his mouth curled into a disgusted sneer.

"You're a monster," he spat.

"Thank you for informing me," Mr. Clever said mockingly. His arm, now sore, throbbed. The gauze and the tape that had been put over it didn't help.

"Could you tell me why you have the metal in your face?"

"Oh, you noticed it? What do you think? You like it?" He swung his hair out of his face to reveal it. Why had the Doctor grown it out? It was terribly annoying having it this long.

"I want to know where it came from."

"Alright. Might want to get yourself a cup of tea or something. It's a bit of a long story."

Captain Gregory just leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. It didn't look like he was going anywhere.

Mr. Clever sighed. "It started when the Doctor took Clara to the largest amusement park in the universe…"


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor talks with Kate Lethbridge-Stewart and Clara tells him that she's pregnant.

"Call UNIT," the Doctor said. "Please. They know me."

Captain Gregory looked at him suspiciously. "And you're not Mr. Clever."

"Nope!" The Doctor shook his head. "He couldn't have control of the body forever. Haven't finished the game yet, you see."

"What do you know about UNIT?" Gregory asked. "Prove that they know you. I don't want to be calling them down here for no reason."

"Unified Intelligence Taskforce," the Doctor stated proudly. "They're a mostly hidden faction of the government that looks into the unnatural and alien that others laugh at and ridicule. Their director's name is Katherine Lethbridge Stewart. Smart, blond woman. Takes drastic measures."

Gregory nodded in approval. "Alright. I'll give them a call."

 

The Doctor idly wandered around Captain Gregory's office, once in a while glancing at Kate, who stood in the middle of the room with two soldiers in black uniforms. Gregory leaned on his desk as he listened to Kate speak of her experiences with the Doctor.

Finally, she asked, "What is this about? Why did you arrest him?"

The Doctor picked up a pen and fiddled with the cap, sticking the end in his mouth. He was rather bored with all this.

"He allegedly raped a woman by the name of Clara Oswald."

He strode forward, spitting out the pen.

"I did not! Ugh! Gross!" He wiped vigorously at his tongue with a hand. "Ink tastes terrible!"

Kate just rolled her eyes.

"I doubt this man could have done that," she said, addressing the captain. "He's like a baby. He sticks everything in his mouth."

"No I don't!" He felt offended that she had compared him to a baby. He was over a thousand years old!

"Doctor, you have ink on your tongue," Kate pointed out in exasperation.

"Fine." He crossed his arms indignantly. "Case closed. But I didn't rape anybody."

"Then why don't you explain why they think you did."

The Doctor paced back and forth across the gray carpet as he explained everything to Kate: the trip to the amusement park, the Cyber-Planner, the chess game… He eventually showed her the metal on his face. Her only response to that was a frown.

"Okay, so you didn't do it," Kate concluded. "But somebody with your body did."

"Yes!" The Doctor found himself hugging the woman, something he would have never considered doing. He was just so happy that someone finally understood what was going on.

Kate pushed him away and straightened her clothes.

"Don't start getting all cuddly on me, Doctor." She brushed off a strand of hair that had fallen on her shoulder, then nodded to her two soldiers.

"Cuff him."

"What? Why?" the Doctor whined. He wanted to stomp his feet and throw a tantrum. He had just been free of restraints, but now they were getting put back on. It was so unfair!

"You said that the Cyber-Planner can take you over at any minute," Kate reminded him. "Don't want to be caught off guard."

"Right. I see your point." The Doctor held out his hands and let the metal be clamped over his wrists. "Best to keep him locked up."

"We're gonna get you to our headquarters and figure out what to do about this." Kate turned and shook hands with Captain Gregory. "Thank you for contacting me."

"Oh, he was the one who suggested it ma'am," the captain said.

"I'm sorry for any injury, annoyance, or inconvenience the Cyber-Planner may have caused." The Doctor dipped his head towards Gregory. He had heard that Mr. Clever had bitten somebody and that the man was currently receiving stitches. No wonder the taste of human blood had lingered in his mouth after he had gotten his body back.

The Doctor got Kate's attention once they were out in the hallway.

"Oh, Kate, there's someone I want to take with me."

"Who?"

"Clara. She's in the hospital."

"She your new companion?"

"Yes. Girlfriend too."

"What happened to Amy and Rory?"

The Doctor swallowed past a lump that had risen in his throat.

"Long story," he croaked out. "You should probably just read the book."

"Sorry?"

"Long story," he said again. Now was not the time to think about his old friends. He had to go get Clara and make sure she was alright.

 

Clara blinked groggily up at the man smiling down at her. His hair was much longer than the last time she had seen him, but…

"Doctor?"

He gave a nod, his hair flopping in his face. She giggled, struggling to sit up. It was hard to change positions with three cracked ribs. She noticed the other people in the room. Two men with guns dressed in black and a woman with blonde hair dressed in a gray business suit. She also saw the handcuffs on the Doctor's wrists.

"What's going on?" she asked, rubbing at her head. That damned concussion!

"Clara, this is Kate," the Doctor said, gesturing to the blonde woman. "She works with UNIT. They take care of aliens and the paranormal and all that."

"They handcuffed you," she stated, wondering why he was acting so cheerful.

"Oh, well, yes. Precaution against Mr. Clever. Don't know when he'll be back."

"Who's winning?" Clara inquired quietly.

The Doctor gritted his teeth, a pained expression crossing his features.

"I'll tell you in the car."

"We're not taking her with us!" Kate exclaimed.

Clara's heart sank. Now she wouldn't be able to see her Doctor. Again. She glanced at him. Maybe…

"I'm pregnant," she blurted out. "Doctor, I'm pregnant with your baby."

His jaw went slack and it seemed impossible for him to speak. His eyes were wide, glowing, yet hooded over with fear. Of course he would be afraid with what was going on, but he seemed happy too.

"You impregnated a human?!" Kate asked in incredulity. "You told me you didn't want a family!"

"It's not like I did it on purpose!"

Kate crossed her arms as she looked between the both of them. Her gaze made Clara uncomfortable and she hunched her shoulders as if trying to hide.

"Well, you definitely got yourself a girlfriend," Kate said, crossing her arms. She didn't seem to know what to think.

"I didn't think my DNA was compatible enough to conceive a child," he said quietly. "I-I…" He trailed off, looking at Clara, his green eyes sad. "I'm sorry."

"What are you apologizing for?" she asked, shocked that he had. "I mean, I didn't necessarily want to be pregnant, but I am now, so there's nothing that can be done for it." She stopped, realizing how horrible that sounded. It wasn't going to make him feel better, so she continued speaking.

"But, Doctor, it's your baby. It's our baby. Certainly you should be happy for that."

"But we don't know how all of this is going to work out!" He seemed distressed. "There are no records of Time Lord-human breeding."

"What about River Song?"

"She was only partially Time Lord because the TARDIS interfered. Our baby will be mostly Time Lord. My DNA and the TARDIS…" He shook his head, looking overwhelmed. "I don't know what's going to happen."

"So we could take her with us," Kate said. "Keep her nice and comfortable and monitor the pregnancy."

Clara placed her hands protectively over her slightly bulging stomach. "How do I know that I can trust you?"

"You have to, Clara," the Doctor said. "Trust me. These are the right people for the job. I'd rather you be with them than the people in this hospital. They have no idea what they're dealing with. They have no experience, but UNIT, it's their job to understand this sort of thing. Also, they would be able to protect you from… him."

"Alright," Clara said. It did sound better than a hospital. "But how will I know they won't do anything to me?" She looked over at Kate, who frowned at the question.

"Clara, please. You'll be safe there. Just trust me."

She sighed heavily. "I will. Let's go. Just make sure that somebody tells my dad."

"We've already contacted your father," Kate said. "We'll inform him of this new development."

"Then let's get out of here." She looked at the Doctor and smiled. "Geronimo."

 

Clara had to be wheeled through the hospital and to the van that was waiting to take them to UNIT's headquarters. She had tried standing, but had discovered that she was too dizzy to remain upright for very long. A nurse ended up getting her a wheelchair.

She was much more comfortable when she was settled into the back of the van with the Doctor. It had three rows of seats, so Kate, the driver, the two soldiers, and her and the Doctor all fit comfortably.

"The game is at a pause for now," the Doctor began explaining to her. "It's unclear who's winning."

"Yet he can sometimes control your body."

There were tears in the Doctor's eyes when he looked at her.

"I'm so, so sorry about what he did to you. I tried to come out, to come back, but by the time I did, he had already left and made it to the TARDIS." He paused, looking sick. "How bad was it? How scared were you?"

Clara just shook her head, tears stinging at her eyes and an ache forming in her throat.

"I'm not ready to talk about it."

"But you're okay with me being here?" He looked concerned.

"Of course. It wasn't you who did this to me. I know you would never do such a thing."

There was silence for a while after that. The Doctor leaned towards her and placed his linked hands on the swell in her abdomen. His smile was deep and loving.

"Oh, Clara, this is beautiful," he whispered. "So beautiful." He closed his eyes, still smiling. "I can feel him moving. I can feel his hearts beating."

"It's a boy?" she asked tentatively, just as quiet.

The Doctor nodded. "A sonogram wouldn't detect it yet, but it's quite obvious to me."

"How do Time Lord pregnancies work?" Clara asked.

"Similar to a human's," the Doctor responded, now stroking her stomach. His hands were warm and Clara smiled.

"But faster," he continued. "While a human is pregnant for about nine months, a Time Lord is pregnant for six. I'm expecting yours to be similar."

Clara didn't know how to react to this new information. Only six months? How would her body be able to adjust to such rapid change? Her body wasn't made for this type of pregnancy.

The Doctor could obviously see the worry in her eyes.

"I know, Clara. I know."

"I'm scared, Doctor," she whispered, blinking back tears. The van had come to a halt.

"And you have every right to be," he said. "But we'll all take care of you. Everything's going to be fine. I promise."


	19. Chapter 19

The rooms Clara were given reminded her a bit of a hotel. They were white and sparsely decorated, but comfortable. She had a full bathroom, a bedroom, a fully stocked kitchen, and a small parlour. It was like they had given her an apartment.

She and the Doctor had been separated as soon as they entered the building. Kate personally escorted her to her rooms while the Doctor was led in a different direction. She explained that if the Doctor knew where she was staying, then Mr. Clever would too. He was going to be closely monitored, locked up in his rooms and guarded. Clara felt bad for him, knowing that he would hate the confinement and boredom.

"Thank you, Kate," she said, sitting down heavily on her bed to face the woman who stood in the doorway.

"Is it alright if I stay for a while?" she asked. "I just want to chat."

"Of course."

Kate came in, closed the door, and sat down next to Clara.

"How did you meet him?" she asked.

"He showed up at my front door one day," Clara said. "Wanted to come inside and check out my computer. He knew my name. He acted like he had met me before. So, of course, I locked the door after threatening to call the police."

Kate laughed a little. "I can picture it."

"I forgot to mention that he was dressed like a monk."

After a good minute of laughs, Clara explained their first adventure together, and then told her about their time on Trenzalore and why the Doctor technically had met her before.

"He's an interesting man, that one," Kate mused. She stood and turned to face Clara. "Well, I better be going. Have a lot to do. You'll be able to see him tonight if you want."

"What are you doing with him?" Clara asked skeptically. There was a tone in Kate's voice that hinted at something unspoken.

"Just some tests," she said, acting as if it was nothing. "We don't know much about him."

Clara suddenly felt scared for him. "You're not going to hurt him are you? And what if he doesn't want these tests? You would force him into it, wouldn't you?"

"Clara, calm down." Kate placed her hands on her shoulders. "He'll be fine."

'That doesn't answer my question.' It bothered Clara that she was avoiding saying whether or not he would be hurt.

"How can I believe you?! I don't even know any of you people!" She was starting to feel very afraid. She had just walked into this situation and was now in the headquarters of a secret government agency while pregnant with a baby that wasn't fully human. She wanted to cry, wishing this was all a horrible dream. Her Doctor had been taken away from her and she didn't know what these strangers were doing to him. She didn't know what they would do to her either.

"Clara…"

"Go! Just go!"

Kate left without another word, seeming distressed. What had Clara done? Wasn't it normal to freak out in a situation like this?

She laid down on her bed and let herself cry loudly. It hurt her ribs and she was afraid of making the injuries worse, but all she needed right now was to cry. Maybe it would help her cope with all this.

'Oh my stars, what am I going to do?'

 

The Doctor jumped as a thermometer was rudely shoved into his mouth. After being separated from Clara, he had been taken to an examination room where there was already three scientists waiting. They seemed nice enough, but he wasn't quite sure what they were planning on doing.

"A little warning next time," he mumbled around the thermometer. He had the urge to spit it out.

"Keep it under your tongue." One of the scientists, a woman, came back over and made sure it was firmly adjusted. The name tag on her lab coat said that she was Dr. Amy.

'You have got to be kidding me.' He rolled his eyes in annoyance and frustration. Of course this woman had to be named after his long lost companion.

'The universe seems to like playing cruel jokes on me.'

The thermometer beeped to signal that it had gotten a final reading and Dr. Amy pulled it out of his mouth, looking at it.

She shook her head in confusion., her brown ponytail swishing.

"This can't be right."

The Doctor just kicked his legs impatiently against the examination table, knowing what they had found.

"What is it?" Another scientist, an older man with thinning white hair and a wrinkled face came over to see. He was Dr. Davis.

"It says his temperature is 15.57º" She shook her head. "That can't be possible."

"A human's average body temperature is 37º," the Doctor said. "May I remind you that I'm not human?"

"Right. I'll write that down." Dr. Amy went and scribbled the information down on a clipboard. The other scientist in the room, a young man with dark hair, seemed to be there only to observe. His name tag read Dr. Philson.

"So," the Doctor began, still kicking his legs impatiently. "Is anyone going to tell me what you all plan on doing?"

Before any of the scientists could answer, the door opened to admit Kate. As usual, she was calm and collected, a serious expression on her face. The Doctor wondered if it was possible for her to laugh.

"Hello, Doctor," she said, closing the door softly. "I'm sorry about all this. I just figured that we should probably run some tests. We know almost nothing about you. Well, at least physically."

"You could have asked me if I would consent first," he stated angrily, crossing his arms and curling his lip. "But you think it's okay to just force me into it."

"Well, there would have been the possibility of you refusing," Kate explained.

"And what if I refuse now?"

"There are armed soldiers guarding this door and posted all over the building and the grounds. I doubt being defiant sounds like a good option."

The Doctor sighed heavily, his shoulders hunching and his hands falling down to tap on his thighs.

"You are impossible to work with, Kate."

"Ms?" Dr. Amy came forward, seeming a bit shy in the director's presence.

"Yes?"

"What do you want us to do about that?" She pointed to the metal on his face.

"Have it removed and analyzed." She turned to leave.

"Hold on!" The Doctor scooted off the exam table and stopped Kate with a hand on her shoulder. "You can't remove it! It'll kill me!"

She turned to face him, her lips tight, a show of frustration.

"Why?"

"It's connected to my brain," he explained. "I've tried removing it before. All it did was knock me out and cause excessive bleeding."

"Well, it'll have to come out some time, Doctor. We'll find a way." With no further explanation, she left the room.

"Doctor? Could you please sit back down? We're not done yet."

"Doesn't seem like I have much choice," he grumbled, striding back over to the exam table and sitting down. "Go ahead. Let's play poke the alien."

 

The Doctor was happy to find Clara in the rooms he had been escorted to after undergoing a few more tests. They hadn't been much: a standard acuity test to identify the strength of his vision and a hearing test that he easily excelled at. Before leaving the exam room, he had been told to rest up, as he was getting much more extensive testing tomorrow.

Clara rushed him in a hug as soon as the door closed, her steps wobbly due to the concussion.

"Thank heavens, Doctor! Are you alright?"

"Fine. Don't worry, Clara. I'm all good." He hugged her back gently, not sure of the extent of her injuries.

"You sound worried," she noted, holding him out at arm's length and looking him over. "Are you sure you're okay?"

He shrugged, her hands sliding off his shoulders. "They ran a few tests on me," he admitted uncomfortably. It bothered him that they wanted to study him like this. "Just simple ones, like finding out my body temperature and hearing strength, but…" He sat down heavily on the bed that was nearby, hands fiddling in his lap. "They want to do more tomorrow. I was told it would be much more extensive."

Clara sat next to him, well, fell, more like it. She seemed rather dizzy. She rubbed his arms and smiled at him wistfully, but he didn't make eye contact.

"I'm sorry, Doctor. I pleaded with Kate not to. She wouldn't listen."

"Don't expect that woman to listen to much you say," he said, shaking his head. "When she has her mind set on something, there's no stopping her."

"I thought you've worked with them before. What makes them feel that they have the right to study you?"

"They're curious," he said. "Scared, even. They don't know anything about me, so of course they're going to study me."

"Doctor, why won't you look at me?"

"I just-" He sighed. "I feel guilty about all this. Maybe there's a way to get the Cyber-Planner out of my head and I haven't tried hard enough. Maybe what he did to you could have been avoided. Maybe you shouldn't be pregnant, and maybe we wouldn't be in this mess-" His words were cut off as Clara suddenly grabbed his face and kissed him. He grunted in surprise and his arms flailed for a second as he was caught off guard, but he finally settled them around her waist.

The Doctor found himself meeting Clara's eyes when she pulled away from him, her thumb stroking his cheek.

"Doctor, none of this is your fault. Please, don't make it out to be your fault."

"But isn't everything my fault?" He couldn't help thinking of a time that River had told him something like that, that he had wanted the destruction and pain that had happened, that he had wanted Amy to lose her baby.

'You wanted this.'

He heard her voice in his head so vividly that it almost felt like she was there.

'No. How could I have? Clara's distressed, hurt, and frightened, and I've been turned into a lab rat. Why would I want that?'

'You wanted this.'

'No! I didn't!'

"Doctor?"

It took him a moment to realize that Clara had been speaking to him. His eyes came back into focus. Her eyebrows were creased with worry.

"It's not your fault," she told him. "Nothing is your fault."

"If you say so," he said halfheartedly. He could tell she wasn't content with that answer.

"Doctor, please don't blame yourself for any of this. And, especially, don't feel bad about my pregnancy. It's a baby, Doctor. Our baby, and he needs us to both love him as much as the three of our hearts can. Yes, I'm scared, mostly because I don't know what's going to happen, but I'm also happy." Her eyes were glittering, a wide smile on her beautiful lips. "I'm going to have a baby."

Her words sparked surrealism into his hearts and he found himself losing his breath for a moment. He was going to be a father. A father. Again.

'The universe is giving me another chance.'

He sniffled and wiped at his face with a hand, realizing that he was crying. He chuckled a little.

"You know, humans taught me tears of joy," he said. "I didn't think that such a thing was possible, crying because you were too happy to contain it. But, here I am." He laughed again. "I'm going to be a dad, Clara!" He jumped up off the bed and couldn't help hopping up and down and twirling around in elated circles. "I'm going to be a dad!"


	20. Chapter 20

The Doctor woke with a new addition of metal on his face, blood dripping between his eyes and down his nose. He groaned and put his hand to the new piece on his forehead.

'Why must you do this?' He moaned in his head. All he got was a cruel laugh.

He jolted upright when there was a knock at his door.

"Doctor, are you decent?"

"Yes! Come in!" He rolled out of bed and ran a hand through his hair, straightening the pajamas he had been given. They were uncomfortable and too large on his skinny frame, but at least they were clothes.

He heard the lock click and then the door opened, admitting Kate, who looked business-like, as usual. Her eyes went wide when she noticed his bloody features and the new piece of metal. His hair was now failing to hide it.

She went over to him and moved his hair out of his face to examine the metal.

"How did this happen?"

"He took another one of my pieces," he muttered angrily, turning away from her.

"I still don't understand how it's physically there. You said this happens in your conscious."

"I would have told you if I knew how it worked. Now, would you mind leaving? I have to clean up." A drop of blood fell off the tip of his nose and onto the floor.

"You have half an hour before the testing," she informed him. "I suggest eating something." She left, the door automatically locking behind her.

The Doctor went into the small bathroom near the bed and washed the blood off his face. He ended up soaking his hair; it kept getting in the way. It would have to be cut. No point trying to hide the metal now.

After perusing the fridge and cupboards in the kitchen, he came to the conclusion that he didn't want to eat anything. None of the food seemed to be to his liking, and besides, he was too nervous. What were they going to do to him?

He was mad that Kate had ordered the testing. He thought that he would have been able to trust her. It seemed that Clara was the only one he could trust, and she had no power in this situation either.

The Doctor wished there was a way to escape. He had checked for a way out after Clara had left last night, but hadn't been able to find anything. There were no windows and his sonic screwdriver had been confiscated. The door that led out into the hallway was made of steel, giving him no chance of breaking it.

'This will all be easier if you let them do what they want,' he told himself. 'It will be worse if you fight.'

The idea of fighting nearly made him shudder. He knew what UNIT was capable of. He didn't want to get on their bad side.

The Doctor slammed his hands down on the counter and screamed in rage. The marble broke and crashed to the floor under his hands, leaving a pile of shards and dust.

'You alright, Doctor?' Mr. Clever laughed.

'Shut up!' He didn't speak out loud. He was sure that there were cameras all over the place. It wouldn't look good if they saw him supposedly talking to himself.

'This is your fault!' The Doctor scolded him. 'We wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for you! Clara and I should be nice and comfortable on the TARDIS, getting ready for the baby, but no. Instead I'm locked up in this place and she's badly injured!'

'Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hurt your feelings?' His voice was taunting. 'Didn't know you had those.'

The Doctor clutched at his head and growled in frustration. He couldn't keep the shout from escaping his lips.

"Get out of my head!"

 

The Doctor glanced uneasily at the scientists around him as electrodes were attached to his head. His hands fiddled in his lap and his legs bounced. He was anxious and impatient. The hospital gown he had been forced to put on was itchy and he hated how it was tied in the back. Couldn't it just fall off in an instant?

"What's this test again?" he asked, admitting that he hadn't been listening while they had explained it. He kept going into the recesses of his mind, too anxious to focus on anything. He could feel Mr. Clever in his head, angry and frustrated.

'Just let me out!' He demanded. 'I can deal with these people if you won't!'

'No! Stay put!' He almost yelled it out loud. He had the urge to, feeling as if his voice was stronger than his thoughts in this situation. How could he beat something that was living in his mind?

"It's to test your brain waves," Dr. Amy told him. "To see how they function."

"I'm afraid I may break your technology," the Doctor said. "Rather strong brain that I've got here." He tapped his head with a finger, accidentally dislodging an electrode.

Dr. Amy came over and quickly fixed it."Oh, don't be silly. Dr. Philson, could you turn it on please?"

The young man pressed a few buttons on a white machine that the electrodes were attached to. It started to hum and the scientists gathered around the screen.

"I don't get it," Dr. Philson said. "It's just all-"

Sparks suddenly flew from the machine and the electrodes became disconnected with a loud zap. The group of scientists jumped back as it began to smoke.

The Doctor just smiled at them all smugly.

"Told you."

 

And, so of course, the next thing they tried to do was give him an MRI scan. That didn't go well, and the Doctor couldn't help feeling bad about it. He hadn't meant for the control panel to catch fire. He was just glad that nobody got hurt. Now he was sitting nervously in another room, listening to the three scientists discuss his brain.

"What are we going to do?" Dr. Davis asked. "We have no idea what his brain looks like or how it functions!"

"I'm right here, you know," the Doctor grumbled. "Could you at least talk like I'm in the same room?"

The three just glanced at him and went back to their conversation.

"We could, um, do a dissection," Dr. Philson suggested. "You know, to look at his brain and the rest of his anatomy."

"Excuse me!" The Doctor leaped up and came close, his hearts racing. They couldn't possibly be planning on doing that!

"I would rather appreciate it if there was no cutting me open," he snapped. "I will be compliant with the rest of your testing as long as it does not involve that!"

"But, it wouldn't hurt much," Dr. Amy argued. "We would put you under."

"No!" He shook a finger at them firmly, hoping that he still looked commanding even while dressed in a mint-green hospital gown. "I have a say in this and you will not have the liberty of dissecting me!" He almost shuddered in horror.

"But-" Dr. Davis was instantly interrupted.

"Besides, anesthesia doesn't even work on me! I doubt you want me to be awake for something like that."

"What about Valium?" Dr. Philson suggested.

"Nope." The Doctor just shook his head, growing angrier by the second. Why couldn't they just forget this stupid idea?"

"Morphine." That was Dr. Amy.

"Won't do. You won't have enough."

Finally, the three scientists fell silent, looking between each other and then back at him. His chest heaved with his furious breathing. Then they all looked at him, unsure of what to do.

"I could just tell you about my anatomy," the Doctor said. "You could have just asked. That would have been nice."

"Okay, um…" Dr. Amy seemed flustered. She grabbed a clipboard and a pen. "Why don't you sit and tell us?"

"Thank you." He stalked back over to his chair. "Good riddance to humanity!"

They seemed to be insulted by his comment, but they didn't say anything, just looked at him and waited for him to speak.

"Alright, where should I start? Hmm… I have twenty six ribs, two hearts, two livers, my lungs are mostly bronchial tubes, and my brain is much larger than yours. I have a hyper conductive nervous system and my blood has greater regenerative properties than a humans. Also, I have many more layers of skin than you do, so it's harder for something to puncture it. If something doesn't get past all the layers of skin it'll just pop right out. I have a large nerve cluster on my left shoulder, so- Ow!" He found the shoulder in mention throbbing painfully as Dr. Philson moved his hand away. His arm began to go limp and his vision went gray, pain starting to spread through the rest of his body. He went limp in the chair with a pained moan, closing his eyes.

"Wh-What was that for?" he panted. He felt vulnerable now that he had been incapacitated, scared. They had all the control over him. "Why…" His body went completely numb.

 

The rest of the tests were rather annoying and painful. They gave him an EKG to test both his hearts, then got a tissue sample, which he couldn't help struggling against. While giving him a blood test, they experimented with how far the needle had to go in to keep it from popping out. Then they gave him an allergy test to make sure that he wasn't allergic to anything on Earth. Turned out he was allergic to dust, but he had already known that, given how often he sneezed while hiding under beds or the like. They also tested his sense of smell, his blood pressure, and his reflexes, all of which were much greater than a humans. He revealed to them that he could identify any chemicals in the air just by smell, and that by tasting something he could know its contents and origin. He also told them about the respiratory bypass system, which came in handy if there was poison in the air or he was in space without some form of a respirator. He could hold his breath for about fifteen minutes if he wanted to.

So, given that information, they decided to conduct an impulse oscillometry test to see how his lungs worked. He was currently breathing into a machine while sound waves were pumped into his lungs. They were inaudible, but they created a strange pounding in his chest.

The Doctor quickly became bored and decided to mess with them. He promptly stopped breathing.

"Doctor, it says that you're not breathing," Dr. Amy said in exasperation. All of the scientists seemed just as weary as he was.

"The machine feels funny," he tried mumbling around the tube in his mouth.

"Don't talk, and don't hold your breath." Dr. Davis instructed.

He still sat, not breathing at all, looking at the three scientists with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

"Doctor…" Dr. Philson growled angrily.

He just shook his head and spit out the tube, then leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I doubt you can force me to breathe," he said. It was still possible for him to talk without moving air throughout his lungs.

"How are you talking if you're not breathing?"

"You're all scientists. Figure it out."

They all looked between each other, than back at him.

"Alright," Dr. Davis finally said. "If you don't want to do this test, we can give you the last one for the day."

The Doctor released a heavy sigh of relief. "Thank, Pythia!" he exclaimed.

"What?" Dr. Amy asked in confusion.

"It was one of Gallifrey's moons. Now, what is it?" He couldn't help rubbing his hands together expectantly. Finally! The last test of the day! It felt like it was late afternoon and he hadn't been given anything to eat. Also, he was hoping he would once again get a visit from Clara.

"Something to test your nervous system," Dr. Philson began explaining. "You'll have to follow us."

"I already told you I have a sensitive nervous system," the Doctor explained, rolling his eyes as he stood and followed the scientists out of the room.

"We just want to see how sensitive," Dr. Davis told him. "I hope you don't mind."

"That's funny, because I really do mind. Are you having fun playing poke the alien? Because I'm certainly not."

He didn't earn a reply for his comment and was silently led into another room and made to sit. There was another machine with electrodes and he noted anxiously that there were leather straps on the armrests of the chair.

"I hope you don't plan on attaching that to my head. It would be stupid seeing what happened earlier."

"Not at all," Dr. Davis said. He went over to one of the cupboards in the room and took out a few supplies. The Doctor was uneasy when he saw a scalpel be put on the counter, and he shifted anxiously in the chair.

"Could someone please tell me what this test consists of?"

"We're going to slice into your forearm and expose your nerves, then administer electric shocks," Dr. Philson said.

"Are you sure this isn't just something to try and hurt me?" He raised his eyebrows and shifted again, feeling as if he should jump up and escape. He was surprised that Mr. Clever had not started talking in his head. He had been gone for most of the testing, leaving the Doctor to endure it all on his own.

"It's not. It will calculate how your nervous system reacts and show up on that screen over there." Dr. Amy pointed to a screen that he couldn't view from his vantage point.

"What makes you think that I'll let you do this?"

"Oh, we don't," Dr. Davis said, coming over. He began tightening one of the straps around the Doctor's right wrist. He instantly struck out with his left hand, sending the man stumbling backwards. He undid the strap and stood up.

"Don't touch me." He crossed his arms stubbornly over his chest.

"Doctor, could you please just sit down?" Dr. Amy asked him, looking frustrated and tired. "It's the last test. Don't you want to get it over with?"

"Not if you plan on shocking my exposed nerves."

Dr. Philson rolled his eyes and sighed heavily, pulling a black communicator out of his pocket.

"Could we have some soldiers in exam room 326, please?"

There was a quick reply that said they would be sending some and the man put the communicator back in his lab coat.

"Really?" the Doctor asked incredulously. "You would rather have soldiers deal with me than just drop the test all together?" He shook his head. "Humans still manage to astound me."

"So you wouldn't if you were in our position?" Dr. Amy asked.

The Doctor worked his jaw and pursed his lips at the question. They were right. He would probably do the same thing. His curiosity would get the better of him.

'Right. They're just curious,' he told himself. 'Can't blame them for that.'

'But I can. They hurt me! And I narrowly avoided having them cut me open!' Now he was determined to fight this test as much as possible. All that mattered was that he knew how sensitive his nervous system was. They didn't need to know.

The Doctor was ashamed to admit that he was afraid of pain. It made him feel like a coward, a weakling. It bothered him that he was being forced to submit to this.

Finally, a group of four soldiers entered the room.

"What's the problem?" one of them asked.

"He's refusing testing," Dr. Davis stated.

"Well, wouldn't you?" he argued, eyeing the soldiers nervously.

"Sit in the chair, Doctor," one of the soldiers ordered, a woman.

"Make me!" It didn't occur to him how childish that must have sounded. "You don't scare me with your guns and your little black uniforms."

"Uh-huh." One of the soldiers came forward, pulling out what looked like a taser. "Sit down, Doctor."

"No."

There was no room to dodge as the taser was aimed at his abdomen. He jumped at the shock it gave him.

"Ouch!"

The soldiers all looked confused that it didn't incapacitate him.

"Left shoulder," Dr. Amy supplied.

"What? No!" The Doctor managed to grab the man's wrist as the taser started towards his left shoulder. Before he knew what he was doing, he found the weapon in his hand and activated towards the soldier. He gave a cry and crumpled to the ground.

"Oh…" He flicked off the taser, stunned. "I-I didn't mean to do that…" He let it fall out of his hand.

He didn't fight as another soldier came forward and shocked him in the shoulder. His scream was choked by the excruciating agony, his body shaking. Vision going black, he collapsed into the chair.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The game between the Doctor and Mr. Clever continues.

Clara sat in the Doctor's rooms, impatiently swinging her legs. It was evening and he still wasn't back. She was worried about what they were doing to him. And, on a more minor note, she didn't want his dinner to get cold. She had made him fish fingers and custard, which was oddly his favorite food, and she had lost track of how long they had been sitting there.

She found herself nibbling on one as time seemed to drag on, despite the fact that she had already eaten. Finally, she heard the lock click and the door open. She quickly finished eating, wiped the crumbs off her fingers, and ran to see him.

The Doctor looked unusually haggard and tired. His shoulders were slumped and there were dark circles under his eyes. He managed a bright smile when he saw her though.

"Hi, Clara."

She found herself enveloping him in a hug, the lock on the door turning once it was closed. He grunted in pain and she quickly released him.

"Doctor, I'm sorry! What did they do to you?"

He just shook his head and brushed past her, heading towards the kitchen. He practically lunged for the table when he saw the fish fingers and custard. He mumbled to her between shoving food into his mouth.

"Clara, I love you. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

He continued eating ravenously, like he was a victim of famine. It scared Clara to see him like this, so desperate and wild.

Finally, he decided to sit down and began to eat slower, taking the time to wipe his face with a napkin.

"They didn't feed you?" she inquired, coming to sit down across from him.

He shook his head and stuck another custard-drenched fish finger in his mouth. He didn't speak until he was finished, left with the task of licking the custard off his fingers.

"I'm sorry, Clara. I suspect that that was terribly rude."

"I-It's alright." She met his tired eyes and saw something there that she didn't often see. Fear. Desperation. His eyes showed how trapped he felt.

"What did they do to you?" she asked quietly. She noticed that there was a bandage on his right arm, a line of blood beginning to leak through the white fabric.

"I don't want to talk about it." The Doctor gave her a fake smile. "How was your day?"

Clara shrugged, uncomfortable with the fact that the Doctor wasn't telling her what had been done to him. "Boring. I walked around. Watched some tele. Worried about you."

"Aw, Clara." He scooted his chair closer, wrapping an arm around her. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

Clara didn't have the will to contradict him, not when she looked into his eyes again. Big and pleading. She had the sudden urge to kiss him, but he beat her to it, leaning close and touching his lips earnestly to hers. It was a little strange that his mouth didn't taste like he had just eaten, but then again, it never did.

Clara gently caressed the Doctor's shoulders as he languidly moved his tongue into her mouth. The physical contact sent a thrill through her body. It had been a long time since the last they'd kissed. She found herself climbing onto his lap and he grunted in protest, breaking the kiss.

"No, Clara, I'm tired," he whined. "And besides, there are cameras all over the place."

"I wasn't going to-"

"Oh, yes you were." His hands slid up and down her back. "I know you too well."

She snuggled closer to him. "Doctor, your hands are not helping to prove your point."

He stilled his movements at her comment, settling with gripping her waist. That just made her want him even more.

"Doctor, are you trying to tease me?" Clara whined.

"That's not my intention. But seriously, Clara, I'm tired."

She sighed heavily and climbed off of him.

"Alright," she said grudgingly, sitting back down. "But, you know, I don't really care about the cameras. I would hope that they would have the decency to not look."

The Doctor chuckled and shook his head in amazement.

"Clara, sometimes you really are impossible."

"Good. Gotta keep up my image, right? I'm your Impossible Girl." She found herself giving him a suggestive wink.

"That was very intentional teasing," he pointed out.

Clara shrugged, smiling at him.

"Well, you need somethin' to occupy your night, don't you? You must get bored only having to sleep three or four hours unlike us humans."

"Mr. Clever usually makes it so I end up being unconscious just as long as humans. My time with him isn't really rest, so I still need to sleep afterwards."

"And how's that going?" Clara anxiously eyed the new piece of metal on his face.

The Doctor heaved a sigh of defeat and put his head in his hands. His voice was quiet, sounding hopelessly lost.

"I don't know what to do. I have no idea how to beat him. I can't beat him. All this time I've just been dragging this out, thinking that maybe there was a chance I could win, but there is none. He's too strong, Clara. He's too smart. How do I beat something that's inside my head?"

Clara rubbed his back in a consoling gesture, though she knew it wouldn't help. It just felt better that she was trying.

"Don't give up, Doctor. Please. You have to win."

He lifted his head to look at her miserably.

"I know. I have to. For you, and our baby." He placed a warm hand on her stomach and he began to smile. "Our baby…" he breathed dreamily, slowly stroking in circles.

Clara smiled too. Yes, of course there was always a bright side to life. She was carrying the baby of a man she loved like no other.

"How is he?"

"Oh, perfectly fine." There were happy tears in his eyes. "He loves you, Clara."

Tears sprang into her eyes too. "He's already thinking about me?"

"Not exactly. More like a feeling. A brilliant feeling that he's being cared for and loved. He feels safe."

The irony of the moment nearly froze her joy. The man who had his hand on her stomach, right over her baby, could become someone else in an instant: someone cruel, someone scary, someone who had raped her. She scooted her chair back before she registered what she was doing, out of his reach. He suddenly seemed worried and a pang entered her chest. She hadn't made him think that anything was wrong, had she?

"Clara, what is it?" The Doctor's voice was gentle. Him. It was him sitting in front of her, tired, sad, and in a green hospital gown with blood seeping through a bandage on his arm. It couldn't be anything but him.

"Nothing. I just… I just started thinking about Mr. Clever."

The Doctor knelt in front of her and took her hand, looking passionately up into her eyes.

"He's not here right now, Clara." He kissed her fingers, then continued speaking. "It's me. It's the Doctor."

Clara took a deep breath as he continued kissing her hand, her stomach pulling itself out of the knots. Glancing at the metal on his face nearly made her panic again, but his eyes flicked up to meet hers.

"You'll win, Doctor. I know you will."

"At least someone still has faith in me." He smiled wistfully and came up, pulling her into a kiss that left her breathless and reaching hungrily for his lips once he pulled away. He relented, coming in again and swirling his tongue into her mouth. She made a pleased sound and hugged him tightly, standing on the tips of her toes to reach his lips.

"I thought you said you were tired," Clara murmured, leaning her head on his chest, his hearts thumping soothingly under her ear.

He sighed and stroked his fingers over her back.

"I am. I have more testing tomorrow."

Clara pulled back and looked at him.

"What kinds of testing?"

"Mostly psychological," he answered. "I'm pretty sure the physical testing is over."

"Good." She held him tighter and her next words slipped out of her mouth before she could consider them. "'Cause I want you to get physical with me."

"Clara!" He laughed and then said sarcastically: "Could you be a little more forward please?"

She laughed too, her face flushing red. She couldn't believe she had just said that. She was pretty sure that she wouldn't usually consider saying something like that. Maybe it was her hormones.

"Sorry…" she said wistfully, giving the Doctor an apologetic smile.

"It's fine. Hormones can make you do weird things."

"How do you know my hormones are spiking?" Clara raised her eyebrows at him in question.

The Doctor leaned down and nuzzled her neck with his nose. "I can smell them," he explained. "It's a rather interesting scent."

Clara laughed at the fact that he was intently sniffing at her neck.

"Is it a good scent?"

"I'm coming to the conclusion that it is." He lifted his head and smiled at her. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Sorry?"

"You'll visit me tomorrow, right?"

"Hold on a sec. You're kicking me out?" Her face fell.

"Don't make it sound so rude. I'm, uh, politely asking for you to leave."

"But, Doctor-" He released her and began gently guiding her towards the door.

"Tired," he interrupted. "Tomorrow. I will see you tomorrow."

"Wait just a-"

"No, really, Clara. I'm very tired." He knocked on the door as a sign to let her out. His rapping wasn't loud, but it managed to sound urgent.

"Doctor, what's going on?"

"Tired!"

The door opened and he shoved her out, the steel slamming behind her.

 

Mr. Clever took control as soon as the door was shut. He looked around, trying to get his bearings. His right arm was hurt and bleeding. Then he looked at the door in front of him, closed and locked. The knowledge that Clara was just on the other side…

'But I can't get through,' he thought in frustration.

'Good,' the Doctor's voice responded. 'Stay away from her.'

"Oh, dear me. You think I'm going to listen to you? Silly, Doctor."

'Don't speak!' He growled. 'There are cameras.'

"That's too bad. So, how was your day?"

The Doctor suddenly had control again and he fought to keep it, sweat breaking out on his brow.

"Why do you care? You spent most of it hiding in the back of my head like a simpering coward."

'I merely wanted you to enjoy your time with these humans. You like humans much more than I do.'

'Well, not these ones.'

'I can tell.'

And Mr. Clever was back, shaking his head to try and clear it. The Doctor fought madly in his conscious, trying to take his body back.

'Go to hell, Dalek scum!'

"Oh, Doctor, that wasn't very nice. Maybe you should watch your language." Mr. Clever headed towards the bed near the door and laid down, trying to get comfortable. The body was tired, and besides, he had things to attend to.

'What are you doing?'

"Nighty-night, Doctor. We have a game to finish."

He closed his eyes and forced the Doctor into his consciousness.

 

The Doctor glared at the man sitting across from him. Mr. Clever looked rather pleased with himself for some reason. He realized why when he looked down at the board, remembering where the game had paused from the night before. He was on the verge of losing. There were a few things he could do, but they would be desperate acts that might fail.

"Ready to finish the game, Doctor?" Mr. Clever asked. "I believe it was your turn."

The Doctor yelled in rage and attempted to flip the table over, but it stayed firmly in place, the pieces not even moving with the force he applied. He tried to swipe them off the board, but they wouldn't move. He sat back in his chair, panting with exertion and anger.

"You can't move any of this unless you're going to take your turn," Mr. Clever explained.

"The board knows whether or not I'm going to take my turn?"

"Nope. I do." Mr. Clever smiled at him. "And I can tell you're about to."

The Doctor came forward to look at the board. What he saw scared him. The way the pieces were set up, it was nearly impossible to win.

'But I have to! I have to protect Clara and the baby!'

He moved a piece and took one of Mr. Clever's, his last bishop. He felt a small spark of triumph when he put the black piece down on the table.

"Oh, yes. How's that going by the way?" Mr. Clever leaned forward and eyed the board intently.

"Sorry?"

"Clara and the baby," he clarified. "I assume you're overjoyed." He moved a knight and took the Doctor's queen.

The Doctor ground his teeth in fear and frustration. Another piece to go into his head. Another piece lost.

"You will not touch them." He moved his rook, hoping that maybe Mr. Clever wouldn't notice what he was up to and he could checkmate his king.

"You don't order me around," Mr. Clever said. "I have my own will."

"And a mind that you stole from me," the Doctor growled angrily.

"Well, maybe, just maybe, you stole it from me." The Doctor's hopes fell as Mr. Clever moved his queen and took his rook. Despair fell into the pit of his stomach. He was in a perfect position to take his king.

Mr. Clever smiled at the horrified realization on the Doctor's face.

"Are you going to do anything about it, Doctor?"

The Doctor moved a piece out of the way of his king. There was no point stalling. Mr. Clever was going to win. Why should he prolong it?

"Your cooperation is appreciated." Mr. Clever moved his queen.

Something inside the Doctor broke when his king was knocked onto its side. His hearts clenched and he was struggling to breathe. The sound of the piece hitting the board was amplified a million times in his head.

His mouth was dry and his voice came out in a hoarse croak.

"If I let you drill the pieces into my face, no fighting, no pleading, will you promise to stay away from Clara?" Before this monster took over, he had to make sure that Clara was safe.

"You know I can't make that promise."

The Doctor's whole body slumped and he found tears in his eyes.

"I-I don't want to do this. I don't want to lose myself to you."

"No choice, Doctor." Mr. Clever sounded like he was getting impatient. "I won."

 

All the Doctor could focus on was the pain and the blood and the horrible grinding sound of the drill whirring into his skull. He had given up on screaming, on thrashing and trying to get out. Now he was just slumped in the chair, tears rushing unabated down his face.

Mr. Clever was singing to him in Gallifreyan over the sound of the drill. The Doctor was unable to register surprise that he knew the language. If he could get other things from his memory, he could get that too.

And what he was singing was from a memory too. An extremely long time ago, a time of fear and exhilaration. A game. Another dangerous game that he had played so long ago.

 

"Eighth man bound

Make no sound

The shroud covers all

The Long and the Short

And the Old and the Loud

And the Young and the Dark

And the Tall."

 

"You remember this song, Doctor, don't you? So, you and I were not playing your first dangerous game."

He continued to sing. The drill hummed. The tears and the blood ran.

 

"Eighth man bound

Make no sound…"


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Clever tricks Clara.

Clara ran her hands through the Doctor's hair, smiling as she looked into his eyes. He was tenderly stroking her waist, being careful of her injured ribs.

"So, what happened today?" she asked. They were currently lying on his bed and nothing had so far been mentioned about the day.

"They tested my IQ," the Doctor replied. "Four times! They thought the results were impossible, so they kept having me retake it."

"And what were the results?"

He shrugged awkwardly. "They can't place a number on it. It's somewhere over three hundred, which is as high as the charts go."

She laughed a little. "And you already knew that, didn't you?"

"I just wanted to astound them." A smug smile lit his face.

Comfortable silence ensued, but Clara was considering asking him something that had been bothering her.

"Doctor, do I look bad with a baby bump?"

He looked shocked by the question, his eyes going wide and his lips parting for a moment as he seemed to be thinking of a response.

"No! Of course not!" He leaned closer and whispered in her ear. "I find it undeniably sexy."

"Oh, th-that's good." It became hard for her to think as his lips touched the area right under her ear. One hand came up to stroke her neck.

"I'm guessing you're not tired," she murmured, leaning close as he kissed down her jawline.

"Good guess." He gently made her tip her head back so he could begin kissing her neck.

"No biting, Doctor," she breathed, knowing that he was considering it.

"You sure?" The question was a bit pleading and his teeth grazed her skin.

"Yes, I'm sure." She cried out in surprise as suddenly he did bite her. "Doctor!"

"Sorry…" He went back to kissing her, his lips sending tingles over her skin. "Couldn't help myself." He ventured lower and slid his hands under her shirt, stroking her stomach before traveling upwards.

"Hmm, not wearing a bra, are we?"

"Hurts my ribs," she explained, arching her back into his hands as he massaged her sore breasts. She ran her hands over his chest and began unbuttoning his shirt, the blue cast on her right hand making her movements awkward, but he didn't seem to mind.

He kissed her gingerly on the lips as his hands trailed over her body.

"I missed this, Clara," he breathed.

She gave a pleased sigh. "Me too. But, be careful with me. I'm still hurt."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Clara let him pull her shirt off over her head and then she took off his, running her hands over his smooth skin. Lust turned her skin hot when she noticed the bulge in his trousers.

"So you do still like me like this," she said.

"Of course I do, Clara." He leaned down and trailed kisses all over her stomach, his hands unbuttoning her jeans. He rolled so that he was leaning over her and pulled them off, including her underwear.

"There. That's much better."

She gasped as he lowered his head between her legs and kissed her, gripping her thighs and spreading them apart.

"Oh, Doctor…" she moaned, closing her eyes and reaching out to grasp his hair. He was doing absolutely horrible, delightful things with his mouth.

He hummed lightly as he worked his tongue, sending tingles all the way down to her toes. She arched her hips into him with another moan, her toes curling in pleasure. And then his fingers were there, rubbing and teasing without entering. She growled in frustration and pulled on his hair.

"Patience, Clara."

The Doctor continued his tortuous attentions while Clara whimpered and pleaded. He came up and brought his mouth to one of her breasts, sucking and kissing while his hands still worked between her legs.

"W-Why do we do this?" she asked. The words came out with difficulty. It was hard to focus on anything except what he was doing to her.

"I suppose we do it because we love every part of each other," the Doctor said between kisses. "Some people do this meaninglessly, but it truly is a show of love, don't you think?"

"Y-Yes."

He chuckled low in his throat. "Am I making it hard for you to concentrate?"

"Dear god, yes," she breathed. She felt dizzy as he kissed her on the lips passionately, swirling his tongue into her mouth. It was probably a result of her healing concussion and the pleasure.

"I suppose I'll give you what you want," the Doctor said, his lips still pressed to hers. His hands went to his trousers and she suddenly felt his hard length pressing against her body.

"Please, Doctor. Please." She stroked her hands over his back, then tickled his sensitive left shoulder. He gave a cry and practically fell into her as his body came down on top of hers. She twisted her hips and moaned, not really caring about the pain his weight put on her ribs.

"Ugh, Clara, I never should have told you about that shoulder," he gasped, thrusting his hips up and down.

"I kind of-" she gave a cry, "Started to notice anyway."

He arched his head back and gave a scream through gritted teeth. Clara took the liberty to kiss his neck and chest, whimpering in pleasure against his skin. She gave a shocked cry as his hands were once again between her legs.

"Sh-Shouldn't I be the o-one pleasing you?" she stuttered, her eyelids fluttering. "After all y-you went through?"

"Nonsense, Clara," he grunted. "You went through a lot too."

She moaned long and loud as she came undone, tilting her head back, her arms falling away from him as her body momentarily went limp. All the while, he kept thrusting into her, the pleasure nearly sending her into unconsciousness. His pleased yell sounded distant to her ears.

Clara's senses returned as her body calmed, and she found the Doctor once again playing with her breasts. Sore as they were, it still felt good and she leaned into his hands, rolling her hips up and down as he pounded into her.

"Feels… good…" she murmured. His eyes flicked up to meet hers and they gazed at each other intimately as she gasped and he moaned against her skin. She cried out as his teeth grazed her sensitive nipple, her back arching. He slid his hands under her and lifted her up towards him, his lips coming to her mouth, his hips still grinding against hers.

He broke the kiss to come in close to her ear.

"I love you, Clara," he whispered. And then he moaned loud enough to hurt her eardrum, but she didn't mind, the sound arousing her even more.

"Love you too, Doctor."

He whimpered as he bit at her earlobe, his hips rolling and rocking and sending her into a world of pleasure. She couldn't see straight. There almost seemed to be two of him in her vision.

Clara should have felt concerned, especially when her head started to pound, but she was too into all of this to ask him to stop. Why would someone in their right mind ask for this to stop anyway? The pounding, nearly agonizing pleasure was the best thing she had ever felt.

"Clara, are you okay?"

"Hmm?" Her mind was clouded. She felt herself closing her eyes, falling into his movements. "D-Don't stop," she whimpered quietly. "Please don't stop."

 

Clara woke to a cool hand stroking her face. She opened her eyes and found the Doctor gazing down at her with concern.

"What happened?" she asked. She tried to sit up, but was taken over by dizziness and forced to lay back down.

"You, um, passed out," he responded. "I think I went too hard on you, you know, with your concussion and all."

"Too bad," she mumbled. Had she really passed out? She couldn't remember anything after a certain point. Maybe she had. But how did she have her clothes on?

"Did you dress me?" she asked.

The Doctor nodded, his hair falling over his eyes. "Didn't want you getting cold or anything."

She smiled lazily. "Thank you."

"No problem." He brushed his hair out of his face in slight irritation and Clara's heart stopped, her eyes going wide and her mouth falling open.

Every single piece of metal was now in his face. Did that mean…?

Mr. Clever smiled cruelly down at her. "Surprise."

Despite her dizziness, Clara managed to roll off the bed and make it to the bathroom to vomit. She choked and heaved, her body shuddering in absolute horror. She had let that thing have her. She had willingly opened her legs for him and he had been inside of her body. He had been touching her. And she didn't even know.

She found herself crouching on the bathroom floor, sobbing wildly. It hadn't been the Doctor, her Doctor. She had thought she was with him, but it had all been a lie.

"Wh-What did you do to him?!" she wailed. She looked up and saw him standing in the doorway through blurred vision. "Bring him back!"

He came over and leaned down next to her, taking her chin in his hand.

"No can do, sweetheart." His other hand stroked her face and he came close to whisper in her ear. "He's gone."

"No! No, get away from me!" She shoved him away and stumbled out of the bathroom. She fell on the floor and crawled towards the steel door.

"He-"

Her cry was interrupted as her mouth suddenly clamped shut. She found that she couldn't move her lips, as if they were stuck together. She rolled onto her back and scrambled away from the man that was now approaching her, walking slowly as if he had all the time in the world.

"Sh, Clara. Don't want to attract attention, now do we?"

She screamed from behind her lips, but the sound wasn't much. Hopefully someone was now watching the cameras and would know that something was wrong.

Mr. Clever grabbed her painfully by the neck and dragged her to her feet, slamming her against the door. He gave a cruel imitation of a smile as his other hand went to rest on her belly.

"Ah, Clara. We're going to have a lovely baby."

She wanted to throw up again. She couldn't breathe, crying uncontrollably, though she still couldn't move her lips. She tried to kick out at him, but her attempts were weak and futile.

Clara tried to scream as Mr. Clever suddenly forced himself into her mind. The Doctor had promised that he would never do this to her, but now someone with his body was doing exactly that.

'I won, Clara.' Each word was a knife stabbing into her brain and she squeezed her eyes shut, struggling against him. His hand tightened around her throat. 'I won. The Doctor is gone, lost forever in this head of mine. His body is mine. Your mine. And the baby…' He laughed. 'That's mine too.'

'Let go of me!' She cried in her head, hoping that he would listen to her. Since he was now in her mind, he would be able to hear her thoughts. She had to make him stop. She was slowly losing the ability to breathe. Her fighting was becoming weaker and her face was turning red, tears still rushing down her cheeks.

'Bring the Doctor back! I want him back! Please!'

'You humans are so pathetic with your begging and pleading.'

Clara squirmed feebly in his grip, his voice becoming more painful, like the knife had been heated before being shoved into her head. She wished desperately for the Doctor, for the door to at least open, to be free of this. She wanted it all to be a bad dream.

Right then and there, Clara gave up the will to live. Maybe it was just all a bad dream. Life was a bad dream, and dying was just waking up. How bad could it be? She couldn't breathe anyways, not with his hand tightly wrapped around her throat. Best to go peacefully.

'It was nice being with you, Doctor. I'll miss you.'

And then the door opened. She fell backwards onto the linoleum floor, coughing and choking. She heard a gunshot and a pained cry. She crawled across the floor, knowing she was in the way of her rescuers. Blood trickled from her nose.

There were more gunshots, and a body fell to the ground next to her. She wanted to cry again with the knowledge that Mr. Clever had no doubt just killed somebody.

More bangs that ricocheted around the narrow hallway, and then the slamming of a steel door. Her lungs ached and screamed and she tried to breathe deeply, but it was impossible through her sobs. Oh, why couldn't she stop?!

There was a small prick on her arm and everything faded, her head coming to rest on the cold floor.


	23. Chapter 23

Clara didn't know where she was when she woke and she began to panic, reaching out to either side of her, brain doing a quick check of her body, eyes flitting around her surroundings. Was she safe? She wasn't in a room with Mr. Clever was she?

She began to relax as she realized that she was back in her own room. She wasn't alone though. Her father was there, and Kate, also a female doctor that she didn't know. They all looked concerned.

"Clara, what happened to the Doctor?" Kate asked her.

She opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out. She swallowed, thinking her mouth was dry, and the act was painful. Her throat ached and felt swollen, and there seemed to be bruises around her neck. Her head pounded and her lungs were sore. She tried a pained whimper, but no sound came out. She began to panic again. How bad had Mr. Clever hurt her?

"I told you that she might not have the ability to talk," the doctor said. Her badge said that her name was Dr. Holberg.

"Well, someone get her a pad and a pen!" Kate exclaimed. "I have to ask her some questions."

Clara wanted to say that she needed rest and she looked at Dr. Holberg pleadingly, but Kate seemed to override her need. She quickly left the room to get a pad and a pen.

She looked over at her father, who was holding her hand. He gave it a comforting squeeze as a lone tear rolled down her cheek. She lifted her other hand to brush it away.

'How am I going to write? I'm not left-handed.' It was almost comical that something so small was bothering her. She just felt so hopeless and irritated.

"Clara, everything's going to be fine," Dave said, giving her hand another squeeze. His eyes, so much like her own, were sad, and he almost seemed to be saying it for his own sake.

Finally, Dr. Holberg came back, handing Clara a pad of paper and an uncapped pen. She took the pen in her left hand, frowned, then put it in her right. She wanted her answers to be somewhat intelligible.

"So, Clara, once again, what happened to the Doctor?"

It was painful writing with her broken wrist, but she did it anyway. She knew that Kate would be relentless in getting an answer.

Mr. Clever won, was all she wrote.

"What do you mean he won?"

He won the chess game he and the Doctor were playing. He told me that the Doctor's gone. Those words were smeared with tears, but she couldn't find the strength to cry all the way. Besides, her sobs wouldn't even come out if she had the will to.

"So, Mr. Clever is completely in control of the Doctor's body?"

Yes. He said that the Doctor is too suppressed in his mind to ever come back.

Kate began pacing, subconsciously biting at her thumbnail.

"That can't be true! We have to do something!"

It's what he told me.

"Damn it!" Kate yelled, whipping around to face her. "I know that's what he told you! But there has to be a way to fix this!"

Clara felt hurt that she had yelled at her, but tried to shrug it off. Kate was only desperate. They all were.

Maybe I could talk to him.

Dave looked shocked at the words she had written.

"Clara, he tried to kill you!"

He wasn't trying to kill me. He was playing. He forgets how strong he is.

"And you're so sure of that?" Dr. Holberg asked. "You almost had a miscarriage induced by strangulation."

Clara's heart stopped for an instant and Dave looked sharply at the doctor.

"You weren't supposed to tell her that," he snapped. He turned back to Clara, stroking her hand. "It's okay. The baby's fine."

Clara couldn't form coherent thoughts. She had almost lost her baby? Her baby? The little life inside of her? She put her hands to her stomach to find the reassuring swell of her little boy. She breathed a painful sigh of relief when her hands fell on the roundness in her abdomen. He was still there. Still, she wrote:

Are you sure? Is he hurt?

"He's perfectly fine," Dr. Holberg said. "You've got quite a strong baby."

Clara smiled at that. She certainly did. He was mostly Time Lord. That thought brought her down into sadness again. And the father was gone.

She wanted to scream, to run around and hit things until she bled, to cry until she couldn't cry anymore, but she was too weak, too tired. Once again, she felt like giving up.

She knew it was depressing and horrible but she wrote:

I don't want to live.

"Of course you do, sweetie," her father said, holding her hand tightly. His voice was quiet and sad. "You're pregnant. You're going to have a baby. A baby that will need you."

Clara took a deep, aching breath, knowing that he was telling the truth. How could she wish for death when she had a baby?

I know. I'm sorry. I just don't know what to do.

Kate, who had been quiet for all of this, spoke. "What would happen if he regenerated?"

The Cyber-Planner would probably be fried out of his head, Clara wrote, though the thought of him regenerating made her sad. He had admitted to her that it was painful, the most agony anyone could imagine, and she didn't want him to have a new body. Though his body had been used to hurt her on two occasions, she didn't want to see him differently.

"Then we'll have to force him into it." Kate leaned forward and gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Thank you, Clara. I know you need your rest." She left, leaving her with Dr. Holberg and her father.

You don't know what happened before he strangled me, do you?

Dr. Holberg shook her head and Dave looked equally confused. Clara gave a sigh of relief. If they had that knowledge, it would be both horrifying and embarrassing.

Oh great, I think I'm gonna throw up.

She quickly scribbled:

Can someone help me to the toilet?

She found herself stumbling out of bed and crawling across the floor before anyone could move to help her. Everything was too disturbing for her body to react in any other way.

Her dad came over and rubbed her back.

"Clara, what's wrong?" He looked to Dr. Holberg. "Is this normal?"

"Not usually. Is everything alright?"

Clara just shook her head, letting her dad help her stand and make her way back over to the bed. The world swirled in her vision and she was glad when she was once again laying down with her eyes closed. She heard Dr. Holberg say that she was going to be staying to monitor her condition, and her father grabbed her hand again. She was glad that he wasn't leaving. She was able to sleep with that knowledge.

 

Mr. Clever lifted his head and looked disdainfully at the chain around his right wrist. His left was free, but there was currently nothing he could do to get out of this. Surprisingly, they had left him in his rooms rather than bringing him to a cell, but he was chained to one of the bedposts.

There were two people tending to his wounds, but he would be unable to attack them. Three soldiers stood in the room, guns trained on him.

"Oh, hello again." He grunted as a bullet was pried out of his thigh and dropped in a tray. Pressure was then applied to the bleeding hole in his flesh.

"I wouldn't plan on doing anything if I were you," one of the soldiers said. "Unless you happen to like bullets."

"No, no. Quite frankly, I don't like them. Nice of you to offer though."

They looked confused by his statement, but didn't question it. The room fell into a tense, fearful silence.

"Goody!" he exclaimed, making one of the doctors jump as they moved in to pull another bullet from his body. "You're all afraid of me."

One of the soldiers gestured with his gun. "Keep quiet!"

Mr. Clever laughed, but it turned into a cry as a bullet was tugged out of his side. Everyone in the room looked pleased by this except for him.

Fantastic. Apparently they want to hurt me.

"How's Clara doing?" he asked after hissing in pain as one of the doctors dug around for a bullet in his right shoulder.

"None of your business."

"Well, frankly, it is. She is carrying my baby."

"The Doctor's. Last we checked, you're not him."

"Oh, but I am him. I. Am. The Doctor. He just didn't want to accept that."

The steel door suddenly swung open to admit Kate, looking angry and determined.

"What have you done to the Doctor?" she demanded.

"Dear me! What is it you humans say? 'Take a chill pill.'"

"Answer me."

"Well… I don't want to get into it. It was rather bloody business, you see. Drilled all this into my head." He tapped on the metal with his free hand.

"And he's gone?"

"Yes. So broken and drifting in the back of my mind that he will never return. Besides, he also happens to be right here."

"Speak with a little sense, will you?" She strode forward to stand over him. She seemed to be attempting to make an imposing stance. It didn't work on him.

"I am the Doctor!" He stood and brushed the people tending to him aside, standing, the chain yanking on his arm. "I am the god who destroyed Gallifrey! I am the Time Lord Victorious! I am the Oncoming Storm! The Predator! The Destroyer of Worlds! The Slaughterer of Ten Billion Souls!" He lowered his voice, staring Kate right in the eye. "I am the Other."

The room had fallen silent and the human standing in front of him had the nerve to break it.

"And what is the Other?"

"A god, you simpering human slag!" Kate's jaw dropped at the horrible insult and he continued, pleased with the result. "The Doctor never told you that? Born as the reincarnation as one of the gods of Gallifrey."

"You're insane," she muttered.

"Is that so? I'm glad you've cleared that up. Now, release me!"

Kate had the gall to laugh in his face.

"Not gonna happen. How about you regenerate?"

Mr. Clever was at a loss for words. "What?"

"Regenerate and get that thing out of your head!" She shoved a finger roughly at the metal. "Bring the Doctor back."

"I can't," he put simply.

"What do you mean, you can't? Would you like a little help?" The soldiers behind her raised their guns.

"This is my last body," he said, wondering if she had gone crazy. "A Time Lord can only regenerate twelve times."

"The Doctor told me that this was his eleventh regeneration."

"Oh, what a little liar he is," Mr. Clever said, once again taking joy in the situation. Time to stand them up again. "He managed to regenerate with the same body at one point, but that's not all. There's a regeneration he hasn't told you about, that he hasn't mentioned to anyone. I'm actually wondering if he's forgotten about it."

"What do you mean?"

"The Doctor never mentions the regeneration in which he destroyed Gallifrey."

Kate seemed shocked, but she quickly found her voice.

"How do I know that you're not lying?"

"Would I lie to you about that?" He gave her a smirk.

"Because you want to keep the Doctor's body. Well, I've got a news flash for you Mr. Clever, I'm not gonna let it happen."

"How? You can't possibly give me another regeneration."

"Oh, trust me, I'll find a way. We're very good at doing things like that."

"Even if you did give me another one, I wouldn't do it. And if you just killed me, I could still choose not to."

"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

"On the contrary, I think it's you with your poor little human mind who has no idea what's going on." He leaned close to snap in her face. "I. Won't. Regenerate."

"We'll see about that." Kate gave him a sneer, spun around, and left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, I don't want to take credit for the idea of the Doctor being the reincarnation of a god. He really is. Once again, more information found on the TARDIS data core. Go knock yourselves out.


	24. Chapter 24

The weeks passed slowly, UNIT conducting more tests on Mr. Clever and Clara's baby growing rapidly. She healed from her injuries and regained her voice, but it felt like her life was covered in a gray shroud. Her father would often visit, but not even that could cheer her up. Looking down at her swelling abdomen would remind her that the father was now gone. The fact that it was nearing Christmas made the whole situation even more ironic and depressing.

On this particular night, Clara found herself laying uncomfortably on an exam table. Kate and her group of scientists claimed that they had found a way to give him another regeneration and they needed her for it. More specifically: her baby.

Clara looked up at the light on the ceiling and tried to breathe deeply through her tears, glad that her father was with her. She tightly gripped his hand.

She wasn't entirely convinced of this plan, still unhappy that they were going to force him to regenerate. She didn't care whether it was Mr. Clever or the Doctor. In her mind, nobody deserved that pain.

Supposedly, the key to regeneration was in the DNA, the same DNA that was in her baby. It hurt her to know that they would be taking away one of her son's regenerations. Still, she didn't fight when Dr. Holberg came over to her with a long needle.

"Okay, Clara, just try to relax," she said. "Tensing will make it worse."

Clara just bit her lip and nodded, giving a choked sob. She squeezed her dad's hand tighter and closed her eyes.

The pain of the needle was worse than she had expected it to be. She gave a cry and wished to twist away from it, but forced herself to stay still. The process seemed to take forever, but finally, she was free of the needle.

She breathed deeply and relaxed her grip on her dad's hand, sending a mental note to her baby, though she knew he wouldn't get an answer. She was pretty sure he could hear her though.

'Are you okay, baby? That didn't hurt, did it?'

Clara actually did get a response, but it was in the form of a kick at the walls of her womb. The process had apparently made him unhappy, which didn't make her feel any better.

"I'm glad you're here, daddy," she said, opening her eyes to look up at her father. "I don't know what I would do without you."

He helped her sit up on the exam table and hugged her tightly. Dr. Holberg had left, leaving the two alone in the room.

Clara cried into his shoulder, letting loose tears that she had been holding back.

"This is so hard!" she wailed. "I want the Doctor! I want to go home!"

"Don't worry, sweetie. You'll get the Doctor back."

"H-How are y-you so sure o-o-of that?" Her breath kept hitching and it caused her to stutter.

"Sh, Clara… Breathe… Take a deep breath. This kind of breathing isn't good for you."

"I-I kn-kn-know." She tried to calm down, but it felt impossible. Her emotions were raging, just as they had been for the past few weeks. She still couldn't accept that the Doctor was gone, replaced by the horrible, psychotic Mr. Clever. She would often visit him and try to talk to him while he had four or five guns pointed at him. He wouldn't say much except for insults, and he was physically restrained every time he tried to reach out and touch her. She didn't know why she would go to him. Maybe it was in desperate hope that she might see the Doctor, that she might be able to bring him back. She had even cut his hair for him, thinking that maybe his old style would bring him out, but it had done nothing. All her attempts had failed.

"I just want him, daddy!" Clara cried, hugging him tightly. "He has to be in there somewhere!"

 

Mr. Clever uneasily studied the device that was being pointed at him. It almost looked like a large laser gun. His anxiety was not helped by the fact that he was strapped to the chair in front of it.

Though imprisoned and experimented on, Mr. Clever had reveled in his weeks without the Doctor. He didn't have his voice constantly pestering him in his head. He didn't have to wait his turn for the body. He didn't have to feel his presence every second of every day.

'Yet Clara still thinks you're in there. How funny is that?'

His thoughts warranted no response, and he hadn't expected any. Yet for some reason, he found himself constantly speaking to the silence in his head.

Mr. Clever sighed dramatically and worked his fingers.

"It would be lovely if someone could tell me what is going on." He said this to the many scientists that crowded the room. Kate, that annoying, human wench, was also there, which didn't surprise him. She showed up to everything she deemed important, being the director and all.

"We're giving you another regeneration," Kate replied. "We took some of the regenerative DNA from Clara's baby and fused it with radiation. When directed at you, your body should be able to absorb it."

Mr. Clever laughed as if the plan was ridiculous, though he really was impressed with all this. So, they really had found a way to do it.

"Alright. Go ahead. Fire. I do hope it won't hurt."

"You deserve it if it does," Kate stated coldly.

The machine began to hum and little lights on the sides blinked on. Most wouldn't have felt the radiation hitting their body, but he did. It felt tingly and strangely invigorating. His skin began to glow with a soft golden light.

The feeling of the new life pouring into him felt amazing. It was working. He didn't care that they were doing this just so he could be forced to regenerate. All this energy soaking into his body felt so good. His skin began to glow brighter, his eyes rolling back into his head. The machine threw sparks as it worked furiously to pump the radiation into him, his body glowing brighter and brighter. He felt disappointed when it shut down, the glow slowly ebbing. He felt invigorated and newly alive. He had forgotten what it felt like to have life left in him.

"I'm assuming that worked," Kate said, blinking her eyes, along with everyone else in the room. They all looked half-blinded.

"Oh, yes it did. I have to hand it to you: that was pretty brilliant. Good job, humans." He lifted his hands to clap, realizing that the energy had burned off the straps. Every gun was instantly pointed at him.

"Okay, fun's over," Kate said. "Do it."

"Do what?" he asked, pretending to play dumb. "You'll have to give me a bit more of an explanation."

Kate rolled her eyes.

"You know what I want you to do."

"I'm afraid not."

"Quit it! Regenerate. Now!"

Mr. Clever just shook his head, then rubbed his hands together as he looked around the large room. Maybe there would be a way to get out. He was still full of regenerative energy. Maybe it would be harder to injure him.

'Only one way to test that.'

He leaped out of the chair towards the nearest soldier.

 

Clara jumped awake to the sound of gunshots. The surprise left her gasping, her hand going to her heart. At first she had thought she had just imagined it, silence reigning over the building. She strained her ears to listen, her heart beating frantically.

She flinched when the sound came again, closer than before. She rolled out of bed and ran for the kitchen, taking a large knife in one hand and a pan in the other. She was frightened that these were her only means of defense against Mr. Clever. She was sure it was him. Unless UNIT was under attack by something else, which seemed like the least likely option. It had to be him.

'And he's coming for me.'

Clara didn't need to question that. She just knew it. He had very clearly expressed how he wanted her, and she couldn't decide whether she would rather have him kill her or keep her alive. He did want her alive. That was obvious; the way he went on about 'their' baby. That always made her angry. It wasn't his baby. It was hers. And the Doctor's.

She crouched behind a counter, her meager weapons gripped tightly in each hand, her breath flying in and out of her lungs. Her limbs shook and adrenaline put her close to fainting. She found it sad, really. She had become so used to being frightened, yet she still didn't handle it very well.

The fighting was closer, close enough for her to hear pained screams. She squeezed her eyes shut and began muttering under her breath, praying to anything that could be out there watching her.

"Please let me get out of this. Please don't let him take me. Please don't let him hurt me."

Clara gasped when she heard a thump just outside the door to her rooms. It was followed by ominous silence, her panicked breathing the only sound in the darkness. She wanted to cry. He was right outside the door.

"Please don't take me," she whimpered quietly. The lock began to turn. "Please don't hurt me."

There was a click and the door opened with an eerie creak. Footsteps sounded in the adjacent room.

"Clara! Hello, Clara!" Mr. Clever sang. "I know you're in here!" His footsteps were slow, accentuating the fact that he was just playing with her. He wanted her to have to wait in fear.

She crouched lower behind the counter, wishing that she was invisible, that he wouldn't find her. Her discovery was inevitable though. She didn't have a plan on how to escape him. How could she? He had no doubt killed most of the soldiers in this wing of the facility. She couldn't depend on anyone to rescue her.

"Clara, sweetheart, it's time to go!" His footsteps came towards the kitchen, her heart pounding more and more furiously. "Come on, don't play games with me. Where are you?"

Knowing that he was going to find her anyway, she stepped out from behind the counter, finding him standing in the middle of the kitchen with his back turned. He swiveled around to face her and she noticed the sub-machine gun slung over his shoulder.

"Ah, there you are!" He strode over to her and she raised the pan to hit him, but he easily knocked it out of her hand, his fingers then tightening around her wrist. She desperately sliced the knife at him as the pan clattered loudly on the floor. It entered his wrist, but there was a golden glow and the blade crumbled, the wound quickly closing. The handle fell from her hand in a moment of shock. No wonder he had gotten this far.

"Amazing, isn't it?" he asked. "Those silly humans actually made it work."

"If you hate humans so much," Clara began, thinking she might have a way to deter him, "Why do you want me so badly?"

"You're different, for a human," he replied, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look into his eyes. They were cruel and full of desire that made her feel sick. "And, why not take what the Doctor had but I didn't? Doesn't seem fair that only one of us got to have you while the other waited for his turn. I've waited long enough, Clara." He released her chin and turned around, tugging on her arm. "Let's go."

"Where are we going?" She had no choice but to stumble after him. She tripped through the doorway, her eyes falling on the mangled bodies of the two soldiers who had been guarding her door. Their necks were broken at impossible angles, and, for good measure, bullets had ripped through their flesh.

"Somewhere safe," was the only response she got. He marched onwards down the hall, dragging her along as she stumbled to find her footing. She tried not to look at the carnage in the hallway, but she kept tripping over bodies. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she was met with faces that she had become familiar with, the eyes now blank and staring. She didn't want to imagine how much blood she must be stepping through right now.

"Nowhere is safe with you!" she shouted at him as they rounded a corner, trying to tug her wrist out of his grip. He held on firmly, not turning to look at her, not responding. As they neared the main complex, she heard alarms blaring.

"What did you do?" she asked breathlessly, now not even looking at what she tripped over. The gun bounced on his back.

"Escaped. I thought I might as well come to rescue you."

The next hallway they came into was lit, the lights blinding Clara after her time in the darkness. It was filled with soldiers, guns at the ready. Kate stood among them, pointing a pistol at Mr. Clever.

"Let her go, and stand down." The director's voice was firm and her eyes were hard. Clara wished she could be so demanding and confident in such a situation.

Mr. Clever came to a stop and laughed, pulling Clara up to stand next to him.

"I don't think so. What makes you think you can stop me? I have proven to be rather bullet-proof."

"Yeah?" Kate moved her pistol. "But she's not."

Clara gaped as she looked at the gun that was being pointed directly at her. Her heart felt like it stopped.

"Kate, what are you doing?"

The woman completely ignored her, addressing Mr. Clever.

"Stand down or I'll shoot her!"

"Kate, please! What are you doing?!"

"Do it!"

She pulled the trigger, the sound bouncing around the walls. Clara stumbled back, realizing that Mr. Clever had stepped in front of her. He grunted at the impact of the bullet, but there was a golden glow and the wound was gone.

"Don't you dare touch her!" He pulled the gun off of his back and leveled it at Kate and the soldiers. "Let me go peacefully or I'll kill all of you."

Kate seemed at a loss, but finally, she lowered her pistol, signaling for her soldiers to do the same. Clara looked at them hopelessly. First they were going to shoot her, and now they were letting Mr. Clever kidnap her. Was there anybody she could trust other than herself?

The soldiers parted and Mr. Clever gave Clara a tug, the gun still in his other hand.

"Come along, Clara. We must be off."

He had her walk in front of him, just in case anybody decided to shoot at her from behind. She knew her way around the facility well enough to know the way out, but she also knew that it would be pointless to try and run. Her large belly prevented her from running very fast, and the foreboding presence of Mr. Clever behind her quickly drove any ideas of that out of her head. There was nothing to do but walk with the knowledge that she was heading towards her doom.


	25. Chapter 25

It became quiet when the TARDIS landed. Mr. Clever adjusted the submachine gun on his shoulder, watching Clara as she stared at the floor. Tears dripped down her chin and pattered onto the hard surface.

"What's the problem, Clara?" he asked, coming close to her. She didn't move from her position, didn't look at him. It made him angry. Why was she refusing to lift her head and meet his gaze?

"Why do you care?" She glanced over her shoulder towards the doors. "Where are we?"

"New York City."

"And why did the TARDIS let you fly her?"

"Clara, I've told you a million times over, I'm the Doctor and the Doctor is me. Of course the TARDIS would allow me to fly her. Come on." He grabbed her arm in frustration and pulled her towards the doors. They were in an alleyway, rain pouring down from the dark sky above. A little bit of a walk and they would be at the apartment complex where he owned the penthouse.

Clara followed without a fight. All the strength seemed to have been drained from her. That was good. Maybe he could finally get her to submit to him and accept him.

Mr. Clever made it so that the doorman in the lobby wouldn't see the gun slung over his shoulder. It was so easy to influence a human's mind. Just make them see what they wanted to see, and anyone would like to see someone free of weapons.

"Hello, Mr. Smith," the man said, tipping his head towards him. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"Oh, I've been busy traveling for work," Mr. Clever replied. He leaned down and whispered in Clara's ear. "Smile."

She actually did, lifting her head to the doorman and giving him a smile that made Mr. Clever wonder whether it was real or fake. She even made it reach her eyes.

"And who are you, miss?" the doorman asked politely, though he seemed to be a little shocked by the wet pajamas she was wearing.

"Clara Oswald," she replied, offering him her hand to shake. "I'm John's girlfriend."

"Lovely to meet you," he said with a smile. "You two can go on up."

"Thank you." Mr. Clever herded Clara over to the elevator and impatiently waited for the doors to open. He was relieved when they stepped inside and the doors closed behind them. He didn't release his grip on Clara.

"I didn't know you owned an apartment in New York City," she said after some silence, the elevator riding up.

"Yeah, the penthouse. Nice place to go when there's people looking for you." He looked at her, trying to read her expression. It was despairing, sad, and hopeless, like she had given up. He felt satisfaction at this. Finally, her will was breaking.

He kicked off his wet shoes in the entry room to the apartment, not really in the mood to track water all over the floor, and propped his gun next to the door. Clara, on the other hand, hadn't been wearing any shoes, not given the time to put any on back at UNIT, so she just took off her wet socks and placed them near the door. Mr. Clever noticed for the first time that she was shivering.

'Of course! 'He nearly smacked himself for the neglect of her condition. 'Humans get cold when it's wet and chilly.'

He took off his jacket and tried putting it around her shoulders, but she shoved it away with an indignant, "I'm fine."

"No you're not. You're cold."

"And you think you're wet jacket is going to help?"

He sighed, once again taking her arm. "Come on. I'll show you where the bathroom is."

He pulled her through the parlour, past expensive sofas and chairs and a floor-to-ceiling window that took over one section of the wall. A kitchen and dining room stood next to the parlour and a hallway ran off of it. Arches revealed the different rooms they passed: an indoor swimming pool and hot tub, a game room, a library, a home theater. The bedroom stood at the end of the hall, the intricately carved wooden door closed. He ushered Clara inside and closed the door again. She was examining the room, taking in the furniture and decorations: a fancy rug on the wooden floor, a large four-post bed with a dresser next to it, an electric fireplace, windows on one wall, a row of paintings on the other. An open door showed the large bathroom.

Clara turned to him, looking a little confused.

"This all seems rather human for you."

Mr. Clever shrugged. "Eh. The Doctor liked 'em. I didn't design the place." He pointed towards the bathroom. "Shower's in there. I can help you if you want."

Her expression turned into a glare, her eyes narrowing. "I don't need your help." With that, she stalked off into the bathroom, turning on the light and slamming the door shut. She locked it, even though she must know that he could easily open it anyway.

Mr. Clever turned on a lamp that stood next to the bed and sat down heavily, rubbing his face with his hands. This woman was impossible.

He heard the water turn on and fantasies instantly entered his head. Hot water rolling over her luscious skin, steam in the air, her wet hair slicked back to reveal her beautiful face, her breasts, swollen from pregnancy, bouncing with every movement. His body had a very normal reaction to all these images.

He growled in frustration and stood, heading towards the door, but then he changed his mind. He would at least follow her wish of him not going in there, but she would have to come out sometime. She had no clothes to wear.

He smiled deviously and began to undress, then laid on the bed in what he hoped would be a tantalizing position. Maybe he wouldn't have to force himself on her this time.

Clara's shower seemed to take an agonizingly long time, but finally, the sound of running water was cut short. His skin tingled with anticipation. All she had to do was open the door…

"Oi!" she called through the door, still closed. "I don't have anything to wear!"

"Why don't you come out and get some?" He made sure his voice was teasing and playful.

'Come on…'

"No! I'm naked!"

"Well, wrap a towel around yourself and come out," he suggested, hoping she would listen to him.

"Just throw something through the door!"

"Nope. You have to come out."

There was silence from the other room, but finally, the door opened. Clara stepped out with a red towel wrapped around her body. The way it hid certain parts of her, but also defined the shape of her curves, happened to arouse him even more.

Her eyes went wide as she saw him naked on the bed. She averted her eyes and went over to the dresser, beginning to open drawers.

"What am I supposed to wear? I doubt you have any women's clothing." Her face was flushing red and her eyes looked terrified.

"No," Mr. Clever replied smugly, twisting his body a little, hoping she would look at him again. "I don't."

"Then why did you want me to come out here?" she asked in frustration, slamming one of the drawers closed. She looked at him, but only at his face.

"If you looked anywhere other than my face, perhaps you could find out." He gave her a smile that he hoped would win her over, but she didn't seem impressed. Maybe it was the metal on his face. Did she not like it?

"No." She shook her head firmly. "No, no, no. You're going to give me something to wear and then I'm going to sleep on the sofa."

"Without tending to my needs? That's highly rude of you."

"Give me something to wear."

He stepped off the bed and she backed away.

"You want to wear me?" he asked teasingly. "You won't get cold."

"I want clothes."

"You've got a towel." He came closer before she could back away and tried taking it from her, but her hands gripped the wet fabric tight.

"Stay away from me!" She pulled back against the wall, holding the towel tighter around her. "Don't you dare touch me."

Mr. Clever strode over to her, hoping that maybe she would take notice of the instrument between his legs. She looked around in horror, seeming to try and find an escape. She apparently decided against it, bringing her gaze back to him.

"What's the matter, Clara?" She shuddered as he brought up a hand and stroked her face. Angrily, he slapped her. Why was she revolted by his touch?

She cried out in pain, then looked back at him, meeting his eyes. "I'm going to go sleep on the couch. And you're not going to touch me." She shoved him out of her way and left the bedroom, the door slamming behind her.

Mr. Clever stared at the closed door for a while, considering whether or not he should continue pursuing her. Later, he decided, but now he had to take care of this little problem between his legs by himself.

 

Clara held the towel tight around herself and did her best to curl into a fetal position with her bulging belly. She was shivering, the towel not helping in the least, but she wanted to be covered up. Fatigue tried to drag her down into sleep but her fear wouldn't let it happen. She listened to every little sound, hoping she wouldn't hear footsteps coming in her direction. All she heard though were the rain drops slamming onto the roof above. She was surprised that it wasn't snow, given the time of year.

'Merry Christmas to me,' she thought drily. She tried to feel indifferent about it, but a sob soon escaped her lips. Christmas was a time for love and caring and fun. She had been expecting to share it with the Doctor and maybe her family as well, but he was gone, replaced by the horrid man who was no doubt thinking terrible things about her in his bedroom.

'Does he actually expect me to go to him willingly?' She questioned, wrapping her arms around herself in an attempt for warmth. 'If that's what he wants, I'm not doing it.'

It scared her to no end that she had no one to protect her from him, that he was just down the hallway and the only thing she had to cover herself up was a wet, cold towel.

She glanced over at the gun that he had propped beside the door. Maybe…

'No. That's stupid. You saw how the bullets just vaporized after hitting him. It would be worthless, a waste of time and energy, but he couldn't possibly be like that forever, could he? His invulnerability would have to wear off eventually.'

Her shivers became violent as probably an hour passed, maybe two, her teeth chattering and her body shuddering. There would be no way to sleep like this, or even get through the night like this. Being cold like this probably wasn't good for her or the baby.

'Maybe I could go in the hot tub. Nah. I can't stay in there all night, but what am I going to do? I can't take it anymore!'

Clara got up, readjusted the towel, and began to search the apartment for any means of clothing, maybe a jacket lying around or a shirt. There was nothing. The apartment was absolutely spotless, which didn't really surprise her. The Doctor certainly knew how to make a mess, but he didn't usually like leaving things like that. He often claimed he had OCD.

She looked hopelessly at the door at the end of the hall. If she went in there, he would win.

But she was so cold.

She slowly made her way down the hallway, racking her brain for any other option than this. She glanced at the hot tub as she passed the room, but it didn't look inviting. Nothing looked inviting, but her best option was the door at the end of the hall.

Taking a deep breath, Clara went over to it and raised her hand to knock. Then she changed her mind. He didn't deserve the manners in the gesture. So, she took a hold of the knob, twisted, and pushed open the door.

She found that the light was still on when she entered, and she was relieved to find Mr. Clever fully clothed on the bed, looking like he had taken care of his desire from earlier. He just lounged on the pillows with his arms crossed, kicking one foot as if he had been waiting for her.

"Cold?" he asked, but he obviously already knew the answer. Clara nodded anyway, closing the door behind her. She took a tentative step towards the bed. She was so tired and so cold, and it looked so warm and relaxing, but Mr. Clever was still on one side of it. Nothing could be relaxing if he was involved.

"Come on," he coaxed. "The towel isn't going to help."

Clara adamantly shook her head, taking a step back towards the door as he rose from the bed. Maybe she shouldn't have come in here. Her eyes went to the bed again. So cold. So tired.

"I think I've taken a liking to the towel," she told him, somehow keeping her voice even as he came over to her. He took a part of it in his hand and she tried to pull it away from him, but he held firm.

His voice was low, terrifying. "I think the towel will have to learn rejection." It only took him a few moments to tear it away from her, no matter how she fought. She was just too tired. She didn't even bother trying to hide herself, knowing that he was going to see her anyway.

"Ah, Clara," he said, his voice throaty as he looked at her, her skin crawling from his gaze. "Beautiful, beautiful, Clara." He came forward and kissed her on the lips before she had time to react, gripping her chin in one hand, her arm in the other. She gave a muffled cry of surprise and tried to twist her head away from him, but his grip was strong. Finally, he released her, and she was left gasping for breath.

"I would like to go to sleep," she told him, hoping that would stop him from doing anything to her for that night. "It's late and I'm tired. You interrupted me from sleeping earlier."

"Very well."

Clara breathed in relief when he released her and let her go over to the bed. He tried pulling the blankets back for her and helping her into bed, but she slapped his hands away. The sudden acts of kindness bothered her. It was something the Doctor would do, not Mr. Clever and she was certain that it was Mr. Clever.

Her body tensed as he settled under the blankets next to her, the heat of his skin too close for comfort. She was cold, yes, but she didn't want warmth from him. He didn't seem to understand and he draped an arm around her, the other stroking her bare back. His touch was warm, but unsettling. She would have preferred to have the bed all to herself so she could curl up in the blankets and go to sleep.

"Don't touch me," she breathed, closing her eyes and trying to force herself to relax. She needed to sleep. It wouldn't be good for the baby if she didn't rest.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said very sarcastically. "I thought you were cold."

"I am," she snapped. "But I didn't come here for your warmth. I just wanted blankets."

He huffed in exasperation and held onto her tighter. "That's ridiculous."

"That's what you want to think." She gasped as his lips touched her upper back. He began to trail them all over her skin, his tongue once in a while flicking out to taste her. She squirmed uncomfortably in his grip, sickened by his attentions. If he had been the Doctor, fine, but he wasn't.

"Stop it," she moaned, now more angry than afraid. She wanted to go to sleep and he was keeping it from her.

He kissed her one more time, on the shoulder, then leaned his head against hers. She could feel the metal through her hair. How could he possibly be comfortable with that on his face?

"Alright," he said. "Go to sleep, little, beautiful, human."

It surprisingly didn't take very long for Clara to lose consciousness, though she was disturbed by the presence of the man who was pressing himself against her and holding her tight. She hated to admit it, but she did need the warmth of his body. She fell asleep wishing it was the Doctor who held her like this.

 

Mr. Clever watched Clara as she slept, fascinated by the little movements and noises she would make. How could she really be sleeping if her body continued moving and making noise?

Human thing, he reminded himself. When Time Lords slept, they were usually very peaceful, but a human on the other hand, a human continued to move and even speak. He had heard, well, the Doctor had, of incidents where a sleeping human would actually leave their house.

Unable to help himself, he brought his hand up to fondle her breast, which thankfully didn't wake her. It felt so good and soft in his hand, and he gave the nipple a slight tug. Her only response was a murmur. She was still sleeping. Next, he let his hand roam over her belly, swelling with the life inside of it. He thought she looked more beautiful this way. It was beautiful that she was carrying life inside of her.

'Well, that sounded rather sentimental coming from me.'

Mr. Clever wondered if he was becoming susceptible to such feelings. Sentiment. It seemed so silly, so weak, and he felt ashamed that he might be becoming capable of it. How could he? He was the darker version of the Doctor, the horrible side of himself that he had kept locked away. The Cyber-Planner had brought him out and helped him on his conquest to take over his mind. The Doctor technically was still there, but at the same time, wasn't. He was the Doctor, but he also wasn't. He had tried explaining it to Clara on multiple occasions, but her mind was too feeble to understand, normal for a human, smart as she was.

He trailed his hand down to the soft patch of hair between her legs, fingers searching for her most sensitive spot. She whimpered appreciatively in her sleep as he rubbed at it, the area slowly becoming wet. He groaned softly as he felt himself tighten against his pajama bottoms. He pulled out his length to rub at it, his other hand still eliciting soft, sleepy sounds from Clara's unconscious form. He couldn't take it anymore and rolled her over onto her back, her breasts bouncing tantalizingly. Hopefully he wouldn't wake her.

 

"Do…" Clara tried to speak, but it was nearly impossible due to the man grinding his hips against hers. He had thrown her down on the console in a mad heat and torn her clothes off.

She tried again. "Doctor, wh-what if we…?" She closed her eyes and moaned.

"What if we what?" he grunted, panting heavily.

"P-press a but-button," she managed to get out.

"Ah, TARDIS will know it was an accide- Oh, Clara!" He gave a pleased shout and picked up the pace. Clara was drowning in so much pleasure that she thought she was going to die. Was that even possible?

"No wonder the TARIDS doesn't like me," she breathed, giving another moan. "It's your fault."

"My fault? How is it my fault?"

"You have the n-nerve to a-ask." She couldn't focus on anything else except for the pounding between her legs, the wonderful friction as he was thrusting himself in and out. Sadly, the world went dark.

 

Clara woke to an unexpected situation. She screamed in terror and rolled off the bed, knocking Mr. Clever to the floor next to her. She scrambled up and kicked him right in his exposed groin. He gave a pained yell and curled up into a ball.

"I told you not to touch me!" she screamed at him. "Would you just let me sleep peacefully on the bed? Try your best not to molest me." She went back under the blankets, pulling them up to her neck. She was satisfied when it looked like it pained him to stand up. He definitely wouldn't be doing anything to her now. So, his invulnerability was gone. Her thoughts went to the gun near the door, but she decided to wait.

'Tomorrow,' she told herself.

"That was rude and hurtful," he grunted, gingerly climbing back into bed.

"I don't really think so," Clara spat. "You were humping me in my sleep!"

"I couldn't help it," he whined. The sound of his voice surprised her. Mr. Clever, whining? What had gotten into him?

Clara huffed in frustration and rolled around so that she couldn't face him. It took her longer to fall asleep this time. She was still nervous, even though she had probably incapacitated him for the night. It didn't help that she was feeling the after effects of his attentions between her legs. She might not have liked it, but her body apparently had. She swallowed the urge to run to the bathroom and vomit. She couldn't show that what he had done had this effect on her. She had to be strong. She had to win.


	26. Chapter 26

"Clothes," Clara mumbled, opening her eyes.

"Oh, no, 'good morning'?" Mr. Clever asked from where he stood across the room, his expression dour.

Clara sat up, making sure to keep the blankets around her. "Get me something to wear."

"Why do you insist on covering up?"

"Why do you ask the most obvious questions?" she argued back, frustrated and scared. She really needed to go to the bathroom, but she was not going to rise from the bed with him present.

He shook his head, chuckling slightly, though it was odd to find the situation humorous. "Alright, alright. I'll go to the TARDIS and get you some clothes." He turned to the door, then back to her, pointing a finger. "If you leave-"

"I'm naked!" Clara exclaimed. "Why would I leave? Go get me some clothes!"

"Jeez, okay!" With that, he left.

Grumbling to herself, Clara rose from the bed, took care of business, and then went searching for the towel she had discarded the night before. It was still on the floor where she had left it, still damp too, but she wrapped it around herself anyway. She waited and listened for Mr. Clever to leave, breathing out a deep breath when she heard the door close. She stepped outside and made her way straight to the door where he had left his gun. She was happy to find that it was still there. She picked it up awkwardly with one hand as she tried readjusting her towel with the other. Then she took a few steps back, hefted it in two hands, and waited.

Clara knew how to use a gun, knew how to hold one and take aim and fire. This wouldn't be the first time she had pointed a gun at the Doctor… well, at least at his body. So she stood, planted her feet firmly, and waited.

After a few minutes, footsteps sounded outside the door and the knob twisted. Her finger went to the trigger. She was determined to shoot him first thing he entered. It didn't matter that he had the Doctor's body. He was her captor, her tormentor, and he deserved to hurt as well. Maybe he would even regenerate.

Mr. Clever looked stunned when he entered, carrying clothing in his arms. He kicked the door shut, eyes still on the gun, clothes falling from his arms.

"I got you clothes and you repay me like this?"

"Yep." Clara aimed the submachine gun between his eyes.

"And where would you go after you escaped me? You haven't any money, or belongings."

Clara angrily adjusted her grip on the weapon in her hands. She couldn't let him talk her out of this. Why hadn't she shot him yet?!

"I'd figure it out."

"You're pregnant and it's winter. Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not being ridiculous!"

Come on, just do it! Her finger tightened slightly on the trigger.

"And what if I don't regenerate?" he continued. "That's what you want, right? What if it doesn't happen? I could just choose not to and leave myself on the floor to die."

"You wouldn't."

He came closer, so that the point of the gun was right against his face. "You don't know that," he sneered.

Clara found herself shaking as he reached down and took the gun from her hands. She didn't know why she let him do it. If her finger just tightened a bit more… but she relinquished her grip. And then she found herself crying, covering her face with her hands and sobbing uncontrollably.

"Good girl, Clara." She heard Mr. Clever put the gun down on the floor, and then his arms were around her. Was he trying to comfort her?

She wriggled angrily out of his grip and turned her back to him.

"Don't touch me!"

His arms were on her back again, firm and commanding.

"Come on, Clara. Why don't we go sit down." He tugged her over to the sofa and forced her to sit, coming down onto the cushions next to her with his arms tightly around her. "Don't cry. Please. Please, don't cry."

"If you want me to feel better then let go of me!" Clara snapped, whipping her head up to face him. "And leave me with my clothes and let me get dressed while you're at it!"

Mr. Clever's lip curled in anger and an angry growl rose in his throat. Clara's face stung; she hadn't realized that he had lifted a hand to slap her. He grabbed her chin roughly and forced her to look at him. He was blurred through tears.

"Clara, I am trying to be the kindest I can to you, but you're making it incredibly hard." He leaned closer, his voice lowering in a way that made her want to get up and possibly throw herself out the window. That would probably be better than what was coming. "Would you like me to be evil? Would you like me to hurt you? Because I can, and I will. Is that what you want? It's starting to be what I want." His grip tightened on her chin and she whimpered, his other hand squeezing her arm hard enough to bruise. She had to get out of this!

A sob left her lips and he suddenly smacked her, snapping her head to the side.

"Stop crying!"

"Then don't touch me!"

Another slap. Clara gave a cry and turned her head back to face him, blinking tears from her eyes, her face bleeding.

"You need to learn your lessons, Clara," he growled. He stroked her cheek, then her neck, then struck at her cheek. The pain worsened and she gave another cry.

"I'm allowed to touch you." He brought her face back to his, then brought down another blow. "I'm allowed to kiss you."

"Please, stop!" He silenced her with his lips, roughly kissing her before slapping her again.

"I'm allowed to hurt you."

Clara screamed as he hit her face. His blows were becoming more painful, especially since they were concentrated in the same area.

He grabbed her chin, his thumb stroking it. Her lips quivered with fear and restrained sobs that ached in her throat.

"I'm allowed to do whatever I want to you."

"No," she sobbed, shaking her head. "No, please, you can't."

"I can." Mr. Clever dipped his head down and tugged on her ear. "You are mine: my prisoner, my lover, my victim. I chose you, Clara. You should feel privileged."

"I'm not your lover," she snapped, trying to shove him away, He just took her wrists in crushing fingers, his mouth making its way down her neck.

"Fine. Concubine, then." He bit her and tugged on her skin, giving a pleased sigh. "You have the sweetest flesh I've ever tasted."

"Get off of me." Her words were weak, choked by a sob that bubbled up in her throat.

"Why?"

"Because you're hurting me."

Suddenly, he brought his head up, released her wrists, and slapped her. Clara gave a cry and just left her head where it had fallen against the arm of the couch. She didn't need to look at him, didn't want to.

"Lessons, Clara!" he sang. Each word was accentuated in his next statement. "I'm allowed to hurt you."

All she could do was plead with him, though he probably found it absolutely pathetic. He wanted her to plead. He wouldn't listen, but the words came forth from her mouth anyway.

"Don't! Please! What have I done to deserve this?!" She fought in vain against him. All that received her was another slap.

"You won't accept me," Mr. Clever seethed. "You won't accept my control. You won't accept my will over yours. You are pathetic! You fail to see the greatness in me and bend to it!"

"There is not greatness in you!" she yelled, finally looking at him again. His face was scary, his eyes dark and cruel, his brows furrowed in anger, his teeth gritted as if he was restraining himself.

"Fine." Suddenly, he got up off of her and stood, brushing himself off. He heaved a sigh of frustration. "I didn't want it to come to this, but-" there was a devious glee to his eyes when he looked at her, "I guess you must become acquainted with my knives."

Clara had no other choice but to faint, fear overriding any of her senses, flooding her veins with a cold that knocked her unconscious against the couch.

 

Mr. Clever studied Clara as he fiddled with the knife in his hand. It was sleek and smooth, almost like a dagger. It was used for cutting fruits, but it could also work just fine on weak, fragile, breakable, human flesh.

He was astounded by the way her will had suddenly returned, how she had suddenly started fighting him again. He had to break her. He had to crush her, then put her back together again, but differently than she already was. He had to create a perfect human, a perfect mate, someone who would accept him with all his cruelty and desires. This, lying on his couch in pathetic unconsciousness, was not it.

He set to work, pulling off the towel and positioning her so that he could see the front of her body. Where should he start? Where he should he begin inflicting her punishment?

He lifted her left arm and held the knife aloft. He wanted to moan when he cut into her flesh and the blood began to run. It felt so good to cut through it, slice and let the hot, succulent-smelling blood run free. It ran down her arm, trickled through her fingers, and pattered on his white sofa. He didn't care. The apartment needed some redesigning anyway.

Breathing in deeply, high from the scent of blood and the feel of it, he continued to slice.


	27. Chapter 27

Mr. Clever kissed the last of the cuts he had made on Clara's body, unable to keep his tongue from flicking out and tasting the blood. Blood. It was such an amazing thing, a liquid that ran through a being's veins and kept it alive, a liquid still tasting of its passage through the heart. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily, licking his lips and wishing for more. But he couldn't. He had to keep Clara alive. It would do no good if he killed his prize. She had lost so much blood already. His wooden floor and white sofa were smeared with it, but he didn't mind. The smell was intoxicating, the sight even more so. A nice way to add some color to the place.

He stood and studied her still form, admiring his work, thinking that it made her body all the more beautiful. Especially the special wounds he had given her on her left forearm. He leaned over her and kissed that, his lips grazing over the letters carved into her flesh. She moaned, but otherwise didn't move. She was still unconscious and probably would be for some time.

Mr. Clever then took up the job of tending to her wounds, carefully cleaning them and wrapping them in bandages. Once finished with that, he dressed her, guessing that she would appreciate it if she found that she was clothed when she woke. And then, giving her one last longing look, he went into his bedroom.

He plopped down onto the bed to think. Hopefully this punishment would help her learn her lessons. Hopefully it would be the one that broke her. He needed her, but as his own version of Clara, not the Doctor's. Everything was still a game to him. He was still playing, and he planned on winning.

His mind wandered back to her, unconscious on his sofa, completely unaware of what he had done to her. She was so vulnerable, so pretty, so… tempting. He wanted her, wanted to have his way with her, wanted her to squirm underneath him as he took her, wanted her to moan and scream as he…

Mr. Clever quickly shut those thoughts out of his head.

'Patience,' he told himself. 'Let this lesson sink in a bit before you do anything.'

But… he wanted to. He needed to. Growling in frustration, he began to get up and head for the door, but then he mentally slapped himself and sat back down.

'Not yet. Not yet! Patience!'

Yes, he would be patient. For now. He would be patient until he grew tired of it.

 

Clara woke to the sensation of stinging all over her body. She groaned and rolled to the side, panicking and grasping at the sides of the sofa as she nearly fell off. Right. She had been in his parlour.

She sat up and found that she was wearing clothes: a red and black checkered dress. It fit her well, so he had probably requested that the TARDIS give her new articles of clothing to suit her pregnancy.

'And where is he? What did he do to me?'

Disoriented, she looked around, finding blood, her blood, on the floor and sofa. Her arms and legs were bandaged, but he thankfully hadn't touched her abdomen, though her back did sting a bit too.

Before she knew it, Mr. Clever was sauntering into the parlour and she jumped, frightened by his sudden appearance. He just smirked at her.

"Sleep well?"

Her eyes narrowing in anger, she stood, her legs wobbly. There was a lot of blood staining the furniture.

"What did you do to me?" she demanded, coming to stand in front of him. His height was intimidating, but she wasn't going to let it show.

"Oh, it's a surprise," he said, leaning forward so his eyes could be level with hers. "No peeking."

"And how will you know if I look?" Clara countered, crossing her arms over her chest to hide how her hands were shaking. "You can't possibly stay with me all the time."

He smiled in a way that made her shiver, his eyes darkening. "Can't I?"

Clara tried to take a step away, but her legs gave out on her and she found herself falling. Suddenly, his arms came around her to catch her, but she fought him off. She hit the floor, jarring her tailbone.

"So you would rather fall than let me help you?" Mr. Clever stood over her, looking at her curiously, trying to puzzle her out.

"Yes. I would." She tried to rise, but her swollen belly made it impossible. Her arms slid on the wood and she fell back down.

'Great. Now I'm humiliating myself.'

"Do you need help, Clara?" He seemed to be enjoying this.

"No. No I do not. Stay away from me." She tried to get up again, but with the same result. Burning tears sparked into her eyes. This was so humiliating and pointless!

"You sure?"

She gave no response, just tried once again, to stand up. She managed to get high enough to grip the back of the sofa. Finally, she pulled herself to her feet, leaning on the sofa for support. Her limbs were weak and shaky.

"Really, Clara? All that just because you didn't want me touching you?" There was a touch of amusement in his eyes. He found the whole situation funny!

"Yes." She held her head high, trying to ignore the lone tear trailing down her cheek.

"Sit and I'll get you some water." He went into the kitchen, not bothering to see if she would do as he said.

She didn't. She wasn't going to sit down. It would be a sign of weakness. She couldn't be weak! She wasn't weak.

Mr. Clever came back with a glass of water and handed it to her. Clara made sure to take slow, even swallows, not wanting him to see how weakened she really was, how thirsty. It was a pain, but the glass was finally downed. She looked down into it, disappointed.

"Anything you want, Clara?" he asked with a smirk, hands folded behind his back as he bounced on his heels. It was a very Doctor-like stance, and it made more tears well in her eyes. She just shook her head.

"Nothing you want to say?" He was teasing her, trying to bring words out of her that would show his dominance. Finally, she caved.

"Can I have some more?"

"What's the magic word?"

"Please?"

"Good girl." He took the glass from her and went to refill it. She was left feeling pathetic and useless. She was shaking too much to get her own water, and she had to ask him to do it for her. Him! She found more tears crawling down her cheeks, which made it all worse. She was crying over a damned glass of water.

She didn't bother controlling herself when he came back with the full glass. She quickly gulped it down and shoved it back into his hands.

"There. I'm done."

"Manners, Clara," he chided, shaking a finger at her. Her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Thank you."

"There we go." He came forward and planted a kiss on her head. She flinched at the physical contact, but otherwise didn't move. He pulled away, studying her intently with eyes that should have belonged to the man she loved, but he didn't exist in those heavy, green depths. There was no room for him in all the cruelty that took up residence there.

"How are you feeling?" Mr. Clever asked after a few moments in silence.

"Hm, let's see." She came forward and stabbed a finger into his chest and he stumbled backwards in surprise. "You kidnapped me, then refused to give me clothes, then raped me while I was sleeping! Then you hit me and did who knows what to me while I was unconscious! And then you have the idea that you can just ask me how I'm feeling?!" Her shrieks echoed around the high ceiling when she finished.

Mr. Clever suddenly grabbed her wrists and shoved her back into the sofa, its legs sliding a few inches across the floor from the impact.

"Stop it. Stop this right now, Clara."

"Why should I?" She spit in his face, angry at how he had taken control of her. It was time to take it back.

He wiped it away with one hand, which he then brought down to slap her, thankfully on the other side of her face. Her left cheek still ached from earlier.

"I see you didn't learn your lesson." His voice was low, almost a growl.

Her heart raced with fear as she suddenly realized what he meant.

"No, no! I'm sorry! I did! I didn't mean that! I don't know what came over me! You have to listen to me! Please!"

A hand came up to stroke her face and wipe away the tears that had gushed from her eyes. She couldn't stand his touch, wanted to shy away from it, but she knew that she would be punished if she did.

"It's alright. I believe you."

Hope surged within her. Maybe he wouldn't hurt her for her outburst.

"You do?"

"Yes, Clara. I believe you."

Clara wanted to gasp as Mr. Clever leaned down and kissed her on the lips. He gripped her chin, fingers wet with her tears. She took a hold of his wrist, trying to make him release her so she could turn her head away, but all that gained her was a forceful bite on the lips. She thought she tasted blood.

Mr. Clever sucked on her bleeding lip. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be in bliss. If only she shared the feeling.

Finally, he let go of her, taking a step back. Clara was given the chance to put a hand to her mouth to stanch the flow of blood. He just stood there, looking pleased with himself.

"Why can't you be him?" she asked quietly, her voice barely breaking the silence. "Why can't you be the Doctor?"

"Because he's too soft and sweet," Mr. Clever sneered. "Too weak. Too innocent."

Clara actually laughed. Mr. Clever was calling the Doctor innocent?

He frowned at the noise, coming forward again, taking her by the shoulders.

"What's so funny?"

"You believe the Doctor to be innocent?"

"Okay, maybe that was the wrong word. He's not innocent. But, compared to me…" He stroked his thumb over her bleeding lip. "Well, I think you get the picture."


	28. Chapter 28

Clara looked glumly down at her plate and twirled her fork in her spaghetti. Mr. Clever stopped eating, watching her with a look of interest.

"Do you not like it?" He looked a little hurt. He had made dinner for the two of them: chicken parm with some Mediterranean thrown in. Everything smelled delicious and her stomach desperately called for it, she not having eaten since yesterday, but it would be another victory for him if she ate anything he cooked.

"I'm not hungry," she lied, not looking up.

"Clara, you're pregnant and you haven't eaten since yesterday. Of course you're hungry."

"How do you know?" she asked, finally looking at him. "You don't control my body. You don't get to say whether or not I'm hungry."

Her stomach betrayed her with a loud rumble.

Mr. Clever just smiled and gestured to her food with his fork. "Eat."

"No."

"Is there a good reason this time? Or are you still not hungry?"

"What if you put something in it?"

Mr. Clever rolled his eyes, giving a huff of annoyance.

"Is there any reason why I would drug you? Now eat!"

Clara didn't move, didn't know what to do. He couldn't win!

'But he has full control over me.'

With a sigh of defeat, she gathered some food on her fork and brought it to her mouth. And then she continued to eat. Fast. Very fast. Gosh, but she was so hungry!

When she was done, it took restraint to stop herself from licking the plate. Instead, she got up the nerve to ask:

"Is there anymore?"

Mr. Clever just nodded his head, his mouth full at the moment. He gestured to the kitchen while wiping his face with a napkin, his food only half gone.

As Clara made her way to the kitchen, she thought about how strange it was to see him in a position that wasn't intimidating. He was eating. Just like her. Just like any living being had to. It seemed too strange, too normal for him to be doing something like that.

Her arms twinged painfully as she served herself some more food. She sat back down and began to eat, slowly this time. There would be no use in getting herself sick.

The silence was strange, awkward and frightening at the same time. She was eating dinner with the person who had destroyed the Doctor. It was a completely unnerving experience.

She cleared her throat to gain his attention, nervous to make her request.

"Mr. Clever, do you, um…" The words felt strange on her tongue, especially since she had called him Mr. Clever. In any other circumstance, such a thing would have been funny, but there was nothing funny about the man sitting across from her with metal in his face.

"You may call me the Doctor," he said.

"Excuse me?"

"If calling me by my self-proclaimed name of Mr. Clever makes you uncomfortable, you may call me the Doctor." He was leaning back in his chair, hands folded in front of him, looking content.

"But you're not him."

He waved a hand dismissively. "Fine. You may call me what you wish."

"Alright." Boy, am I gonna regret this. "Dumbass."

"Sorry?"

"You said I could call you whatever I wanted." She couldn't help giggling. "Dumbass."

"Oi! I am not dumb, or, a, uh, rear end! Anything but that!"

"Whatever you say, dumbass," Clara said with a smile, shrugging. He started to stand.

'And, here it comes. Why did I do something so stupid?'

He loomed over her, one hand on the table, the other on the back of her chair. She shrank back from his gaze.

"Forget the names," he said. "What did you want to ask me?" He pointedly raised his eyebrows.

"I was, uh, wondering if you had any, um, pain medication." Her voice was weak and quiet. She continued speaking when he didn't respond. "I-It hurts. What you d-did to me."

Mr. Clever leaned down and got right in her face.

"Good. It's supposed to hurt, dumbass."

 

Bedtime once again turned out to be an issue. Clara insisted on sleeping in the parlour, but Mr. Clever was not going to allow it.

"Get in the bed, Clara."

"No. How am I expected to sleep when you forced me there?"

"Bed! Now!"

Clara stubbornly shook her head, bringing the fury inside him up to bubble right under his skin. He strode over to her and grabbed her tightly.

"You want me to put you there?"

She tried shoving him away. "Don't touch me!"

So apparently she has not learned her lesson.

"Remember what I told you, Clara. If I want to touch you, I'll touch you. You got that?"

"No!" Tears ran down her cheeks. "It's not fair!"

"I know, darling." He caressed her face, wiping away the tears and touching her smooth skin. "Life isn't fair, now is it?" He made his voice soft. "Now get in the bed."

"A change of tactics won't make me do it."

"Oh, really?" He smiled at her deviously. "Would you like me to try harder?"

Her eyes went wide with fear, but she didn't move towards the bed like he had hoped she would. Oh well. He did need something to occupy himself anyway.

"Alright, then." Mr. Clever shoved her backwards onto the bed, coming down on top of her. She flailed her limbs wildly until he caught them, pinning her legs with his weight and grabbing her wrists.

"Calm down, Clara." He nuzzled her neck with his nose, breathing in her intoxicating scent. She had no idea how good she smelled.

She relaxed underneath him and he let go of her wrists.

"There's a good girl," he murmured, kissing her throat before bringing his head up to lick her jawline.

"Stop it," she whimpered.

"Lessons," Mr. Clever said, nibbling on her earlobe. "Lessons, lessons, lessons. You must learn them, or you will get hurt. I can do whatever I want to you." He slid a hand up her nightie to finger at her panties. She gasped and squirmed, but didn't try to hit him, her hands staying uselessly beside her. "If I want to touch you here, I can." He then trailed his hand up to her breasts, squeezing one of them gently. The touch brought tears to her eyes. "Or here. I can do that too. I can do whatever I want. You must learn that."

"It's not fair," she breathed. It seemed a struggle for her to remain still. So, she was learning. "This is so unfair."

"You can't be treated equally by everyone in life, Clara." He licked her throat, teasing himself with the taste of her skin. "You may be the Impossible Girl, but you're not that impossible."

"Get off me." Her voice was weaker. She was slowly losing her will. That was good.

"Oh, come on…" He wiggled his hips against hers, feeling himself harden. "You like this."

"No, actually, I don't."

"You like it when the Doctor does it to you."

"That's because I love him."

Mr. Clever slid his hand back to her legs and pulled down her panties. She still didn't fight him. This seemed to be working.

"Please, no," she choked out as his other hand went to his trousers. It was due time to have some fun.

"Lessons, Clara," he said, and then he shoved himself into her.

 

Mr. Clever watched as Clara seemed to be grabbing at everything but him to brace herself as he continued his onslaught on her body, her fingers pulling desperately at the sheets. What was wrong with her? Why wouldn't she touch him?

Those thoughts instantly left his mind as her walls tightened around him. He screamed as unbearable ecstasy pounded through his body. There were black spots in his vision when he opened his eyes again.

"You're enjoying it, aren't you?" he cooed.

Clara, who had her eyes tightly shut, shook her head even though her body had betrayed her, her fingers tightening their grip on the blankets. Luscious moans streamed from her mouth all the while, but from what, he didn't know. Pain or pleasure?

He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "You're lying."

Mr. Clever let her cry out and gasp into his ear as his teeth worked at her neck, trying to get a small piece of that succulent flesh. Her sound just aroused him even more.

And then she did touch him, grabbing onto his shoulders and digging in with her nails. She rocked her hips up to meet his, gasping with pleasure and exertion. A victory for him. She was coming to accept him, quite literally, in this sense.

Mr. Clever breathed heavily through gritted teeth, trying to restrain himself from yelling in her ear. Making her partially deaf would do no good. He busied himself with biting at her neck, willing the blood to flow.

Clara gave a cry when her skin broke under his teeth, but she didn't stop rolling her hips towards him, her fingers clutching desperately at his back. It was a surprise to know that he would have scratch marks after this. Even with his many layers of skin, Clara was holding on hard enough for her nails to draw blood.

Blood. Sweet, sweet, blood. He didn't know what he liked more. The liquid flowing so easily into his mouth from Clara's neck? Or the way they went at each other with disgusting, wonderful vigor? He decided that he would rather not have to choose.

She gasped and gave another cry.

"Oh, Doctor!"

"Yes! That's me! I'm the Doctor!"

She shook her head, but continued to push up into him.

'And she thinks we're two separate people and she's made herself believe that she's with the Doctor. That's just great.'

It made him upset that the only reason Clara was being willing was that she had imagined the Doctor instead of him. Wasn't he better? Why did she not want him? They had the same body, a body that she had done this with countless times. Why couldn't she just accept this physical fire and bliss?

"Clara," he groaned. "The Doctor's not here right now."

Her eyes flew open, latching onto the metal on his face. The realization seemed to hit her, but she didn't seem to have the capability to stop her hips. She tossed her head back and let out a scream as she came undone, a horrible, horrible scream that was a mix between pleasure and pain, ecstasy and heartbreak, bliss and anguish. Her emotions were split into two sides. One that wanted him and the other that didn't. Her body was lying to her mind.

Mr. Clever worked harder, thrusting into her faster, moaning with each breath. He had to make her see. He had to make her want him. He worked his hips desperately, bringing his mouth down to her breasts. He had to do everything he could to make her feel good. He had to show her that she should accept him.

He took turns sucking and kissing them, once in a while taking his mouth away to yell at the sensations in his body. Yes. It was his body, not the Doctor's. He was once again reveling at how he had full control. If only Clara could accept that. If only…


	29. Chapter 29

Clara woke the next morning feeling stupid and weak and shameful. She couldn't believe that she had actually enjoyed part of last night, that she had actually let him take her. Part of it had been because she was so desperate for the Doctor that her mind had made it out to be him rather than Mr. Clever. But, as she had been drifting off, she finally realized in full, that it wasn't him. She had had nightmares about it, her mind conjuring up horrible imaginings of what he could have possibly done to the Doctor. His pained screams still rang in her ears though she was awake.

She smelled something from the kitchen, probably pancakes, but she didn't want to get up. Her body ached and the wounds he had inflicted upon her yesterday stung terribly. If only he had given her some pain medicine.

And, in a moment that shocked her, she saw a bottle of Tylenol on the nightstand next to her. She grabbed it and opened it, examining the pills inside to make sure that it really was medicine. The size and color of the capsules were familiar, so she felt more at ease, putting the cap back on. Now she wanted to eat. She wouldn't be able to take any of this until she did.

Clara got out of bed and wandered over to the dining room. Sure enough, a large plate of pancakes sat at the place where she had eaten dinner last night, already buttered and doused in maple syrup. There was a glass of milk next to it, but that didn't appeal to her. She wanted soda for some reason.

'I hate cravings!'

She gingerly stepped into the kitchen, finding Mr. Clever tending to half-cooked pancakes at the stove.

"Is there any soda?" she squeaked out. She cursed herself for her weak voice, but, even flipping pancakes, he scared her.

He just raised his eyebrows in question but then gestured to the fridge, going back to cooking. She found a bottle of coke and opened it, taking a sip that made her feel good. Yep. Totally craving soda.

"Sleep well?" he asked her.

The question shocked her and she found herself choking on her drink. Before she knew what was happening, he had run over to her.

"Clara, are you okay?"

She gave another cough. "Yeah, of course I'm fine. I'm not dying. Go back to your cooking."

Mr. Clever looked offended, but he went back over to the stove and picked up the spatula, looking at her with his brows furrowed in concern. Shaking her head, she went back into the dining room and sat down.

She was eating when he came into the dining room, carrying his breakfast. He sat down and began to cut into his pancakes, not looking at her.

"I asked you if you slept well."

The knife screeched painfully against the plate as he exerted too much force on it.

Clara gulped down her food, not sure how to react or what to say, flinching at the sound that grated at her ears.

"I did."

He continued cutting into his pancakes. Another screech against the plate.

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying."

"Yes. You are."

She cringed as the knife grated against the plate once again. The horrible sound ached in her teeth and made her shudder.

"I asked you if you slept well."

"Fine. I didn't. I had nightmares."

"About?" He was thankfully eating now. There wouldn't be any more of that horrible, threatening, noise.

"You," she replied blandly.

Mr. Clever swallowed, then put his silverware down, looking like he would have rather thrown them. He still wasn't looking at her. She could feel a breakdown coming on.

"I'm afraid," she told him honestly. Lying to him would only make him angrier. He seemed to be able to hear it in her voice when she tried.

"Of me?" His eyes stayed fixed on his plate. There were scratch marks in it from the knife. Was that a small bit of satisfaction at the corners of his lips.

"Yes."

He finally looked at her, his eyes hooded, but also shining with a bit of satisfaction that made her lose her appetite.

"And for now, it should stay that way."

 

Clara studied the bottle of Tylenol. She had taken a few pills and her pain was starting to dull, but she was wondering what would happen if Mr. Clever had some. Maybe if he had all of them.

'Only one way to find out.'

Feeling rather proud of herself, Clara hid the pills in her pocket, then made her way to the kitchen, happy that they weren't rattling. This plan made her nervous too.

Mr. Clever was reading in the parlour and he looked up when she came in.

"What do you plan on doing?" he asked. His voice was a bit suspicious.

"Making a soufflé," Clara responded. "Haven't tried one in a while. Can I…?"

"Help yourself," he said grumpily. "As long as you don't burn the apartment down, I guess we're fine."

She felt offended that he had made fun of her baking, but then again, he had the right to. She was terrible at making soufflés. She was more determined to get this one right than any other.

So, when it came time to add the crushed pills to the batter, she didn't put all of them in, afraid that she wouldn't have any more if the soufflé came out wrong. And then she thought that she should put even less in. What if she kept messing up? In the end, she only added the powder from five crushed pills.

'Please let this do something.' It was a far-flung hope, but he wasn't human, so, maybe it would have some different effects on him. She knew it was the stupidest idea ever. What if he found out? What would happen to her?

Working up her courage, she stuck the batter in the oven.

 

Mr. Clever sadly took an interest in her while the soufflé was baking. He was sitting on the sofa next to her, the one free of blood, and twirling her hair absentmindedly in his fingers. Clara tried not to show her discomfort. She didn't want him to try and teach her another 'lesson.'

"I'm glad I get to share Christmas with you, Clara," he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "The Doctor loved Christmas, and he was excited about celebrating with you." He laughed. "But now I get to do it in his place!"

"Good for you," she mumbled sarcastically. Right! Christmas was tomorrow.

He seemed upset for a little while.

"But I didn't get you anything…"

She shrugged, trying to seem carefree. God, but his touch frightened her!

Mr. Clever put a hand to her stomach and she felt the baby suddenly kick out violently. She gave a cry and moved away from him, clutching her belly.

"He-" His eyes, usually filled with emotions that frightened her, were big and sad. It seemed impossible for Mr. Clever to have such a look on his face, but he did. "He doesn't like me."

"That's because you're not the father." She rubbed at her belly, the baby continuing to move and kick. He was uncomfortable with him as well.

"But I am. Clara, I am." His voice sounded so desperate. He came close and Clara turned her body away from him, but kept her gaze on him. "I keep trying to tell you that! Why won't you believe me?!"

"Because you're not him!" she shrieked right back, tears beginning to run from her eyes. "You took him, you tortured him, and you killed him! You're not even really a Time Lord! You're a piece of Cyberman technology!" She stood over him, feeling in power for once. "Get that through your hardware and leave me alone!"

With that, she stormed off to check on her soufflé.

 

Mr. Clever was left sitting on the sofa, his mouth gaping open in astonishment. It took him a while to gain his composure and close it again. He touched the metal on his face, ran his fingers over each individual piece and wire. Leftovers from the Cyber-Planner. He wasn't a Cyber-Planner. He was the Doctor. A darker version of the Doctor that he had kept locked away for countless years. The Cyber-Planner had just been kind enough to let him out. And the good Doctor, well, he was gone. He knew he was gone. He had made sure of that. Then why did he feel so sad all of a sudden, feel offended by Clara's words. Why was he letting them burn and hurt?

'She's just a human,' he told himself. 'Just a stupid, bloody, human. She doesn't have any power. I do! She must learn!'

Still, he couldn't get himself to move from the sofa. Damn it! Why did her words hurt so much?!

'I am a Time Lord. I am a living thing. I am not just technology. I have a brain, not a piece of hardware. I am a Time Lord. I am a living thing…'

Mr. Clever just kept repeating that in his head because it was the truth. It would lessen the pain. At least, that's what it should have been doing.

 

Clara was upset that her first perfect soufflé was for a man who was not the Doctor. It was perfectly shaped, perfectly colored, perfectly everything. It made her mad. Why did her best soufflé have to be for this man?!

He seemed to be enjoying it at least, eating it ravenously and then asking for more. He inquired why Clara only had a little bit and she had told him that she had made it especially for him. This seemed to make him happy. She realized that her answer made it seem like she was accepting him.

'But I'm not! I'll never accept you!'

Finally finished with the soufflé, Mr. Clever took a long swig of milk and then leaned back in his chair with a loud sigh, looking content and relaxed.

"That was lovely, Clara. I'm sorry I insulted you earlier about your baking."

She was absolutely shocked, her mouth dropping open. Mr. Clever had just complimented her and apologized. He didn't say anymore though, just closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

"You okay over there?" she asked uncertainly. He looked really tired all of a sudden.

"Yeah, yeah," he murmured, opening his eyes. He cracked a loud yawn. "Just tired for some reason. I'll just go lie down."

 

Mr. Clever wasn't really thinking anything of it when he started to feel drowsy. Time Lords didn't usually need much sleep, but he had really exerted himself the night before. And after that he hadn't been able to sleep. Maybe all he needed was a little nap. He told Clara he was going to go lie down and headed for the bedroom. By the time he got there, his body was aching as if he had been exercising all day. He gave a tired, confused groan and flopped down on the mattress, not bothering with his clothes, the blanket or the pillows. He was just tired. So, so tired. His eyes slid closed.

 

He wasn't sure what to think when he found himself in a very familiar place. It was the mansion he had created while still trapped in the Doctor's mind. It shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be here. This shouldn't be-

His eyes fell on the man sitting across from him. His green eyes were fiery with anger and determination, his brows drawn down and his lips curled into a smirk, his skin smooth and free of any technology.

The Doctor just stared at Mr. Clever, his gaze threatening. For the first time in his life, he actually felt scared.

The Doctor's smirk deepened.

"Did you miss me?"


	30. Chapter 30

Clara gave Mr. Clever a curious nudge. He had been unconscious for the past few hours after eating the soufflé, or, he seemed to be that way.

When he didn't move, she flipped him over onto his back and put a finger to his neck to check his pulse. She couldn't find it, so she put her fingers under his nose to check that he was still breathing. He was, but very slowly.

She was relieved that he was and she put him back in his earlier position. She hadn't necessarily wanted to kill him. She was hoping there was still a chance that the Doctor would come back. For now, all she needed was an escape. It seemed like one had come to her.

'All I need to do is get to the TARDIS.'

Clara knew that the spaceship hated her, but maybe it would feel obligated to protect her. It couldn't have liked Mr. Clever at all. She didn't think of what she would do if it didn't let her in. She couldn't afford to think like that.

She left the bedroom, feeling a little sad when she turned back to look at him. He almost seemed like the Doctor when he wasn't awake and yelling at her, his face shoved into the pillow, the metal hidden.

Clara grabbed the submachine gun by the door, ready to leave before she realized that she might get arrested for having it. She went searching the apartment for a bag or a suitcase of some sort. Finally, she found a black duffel bag and stuffed the gun inside, then slung it over her shoulder. Now she was ready to go.

She felt no remorse as she left and closed the door behind her.

 

Mr. Clever tried leaping at the Doctor, but the man across from him held up a hand and he froze, only able to move his head.

"How are you doing that?"

"My head, my rules."

"But you couldn't do that before."

"Yes, I realized that. Would have been quite useful." He lowered his hand and Mr. Clever fell back into his chair.

He curled his lip in anger.

"You're back. How are you back?"

The Doctor examined his nails in a bored manner, sighing heavily as if he was wasting his time. This made him even angrier. Of course he was worth his time! He was dangerous! He had destroyed him! Or… at least tried to.

"Clara helped with that," the Doctor said. "Wonderful soufflé that was, but I'm pretty sure she put something in it." He put a hand to his stomach as if he could feel the food that he had just eaten. "Tylenol, I think. Very toxic to Time Lords."

Mr. Clever smirked. Maybe he would get a slight victory, even if it was in death.

"Good. We're dying. That means no you."

"And no you," the Doctor pointed out.

"I clearly understand that. Just proud that I'm taking you with me."

The Doctor laughed as if that was the most ridiculous notion.

"You don't understand. I've put the body into a coma so it can dispel the poison. No dying for me!"

"Then what do you want? That will keep me alive too." Mr. Clever wasn't quite sure what he was getting at. Coma? How long had he been unconscious already? Had Clara left?

"Well, it really depends on what happens in our time here. We're both stuck here for now, until the body's all up and running." He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest in a smug manner. "What do you think I want?"

"This is getting old, Doctor." Mr. Clever stood and circled around the table to stand over him. "We've played two games already. First you won by cheating, and then I won by being clever. What can you possibly do now?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. Why was he acting so casual in his presence? He should fear him!

"Play another game."

"If I see another chessboard, I swear I'm going to be sick," Mr. Clever sneered. "And I'll make sure I do it all over you for good measure."

The Doctor laughed. Laughed! At him! He wanted to hit him. He wanted to make him hurt, to remember who was in control.

"No, no, don't worry. No more chess. I'd be sick too, I think. A different game."

"What?" Mr. Clever snorted in amusement and irritation. "Are we going to play Operation?"

"Horrid guess." He looked at him expectantly, as if he wanted him to go on. Mr. Clever ground his teeth in frustration.

"Risk?"

"Nope."

"Monopoly." He knew this was absolutely ridiculous, but he had no other choice but to go on. The Doctor was smiling and chuckling slightly.

"You're hilarious."

"Life. You technically play it anyway. The universe is your board, right?"

"Don't go there." His eyes narrowed and he leaned closer to him, on the verge of rising from his chair.

"Why not? Let's go play, Doctor. Let's go play the game of Life. Let's ruin it for everybody."

"No." The chair screeched across the floor as he abruptly stood, forcing Mr. Clever back a step.

"But you do anyway." Mr. Clever smirked. He was winning. He was grating on the Doctor's nerves.

"An old conversation." He turned his back and started pacing, hands folded behind his back. His movements were strict, his shoes clipping on the floor. "We are going to do something new."

"And what do you have in mind?"

"A new game." He stopped and turned to face him, smiling, but in a devious way that made Mr. Clever actually fear his position in all of this. He was still in control, wasn't he?

'No, of course not, you idiot!' He chided himself. 'The Doctor is in control and I have to change that.'

"What sort of game?"

"Oh, I'm getting to that." The Doctor snapped his fingers and Clara suddenly appeared next to him. She was still though, with a smile on her face, nothing more than a mental image. "Whoever gets to her first, wins."

"But we're in a coma."

"No, I mean in here."

Mr. Clever instantly lunged forward, but the Doctor shook a scolding finger at him, and he couldn't move.

"Ah, ah, ah. Not yet."

He fought in vain against whatever was holding him, growling in exertion and frustration. It was impossible to get out of. And Clara, well, a version of her, was just standing right there.

"I've created a maze" the Doctor began, running a hand through Clara's hair. He smiled as his fingers ran through her locks. Mr. Clever felt unbelievably jealous. That should be his hand in her hair, not the Doctor's. She was his!

"I am going to put her in it," he continued, his fingers running over her face. "Whoever touches her first wins, and when I say that, I mean for good. No coming back for the other one, no scrambling for power."

"Is that what you're doing now, Doctor?" Mr. Clever asked. "Is it hard for you to be in control? Do you fear me? Is this some last desperate ploy to get me out of your head?"

"Yes, it is."

"Then what makes it so different from before? You've proven that you can't beat me."

"Oh, but I can."

"What's so different than last time, then, hm?" Mr. Clever was finally allowed to step forward and he studied Clara. The mental version of her was pregnant, just as she should be. Pregnant with his baby.

"Baby will be here in a few months," he started explaining, placing a possessive hand over her stomach. Mr. Clever gritted his teeth in anger. Why did he feel the need to mock him? "Can't let you have it, now can I?"

"This maze, won't you know the way since you created it?"

The Doctor shook his head. "It was instantly deleted from my memory. The game will be fair. No cheating this time."

"You promise?" Mr. Clever took a step closer, so close to Clara, but she seemed so far away with the Doctor holding her like that. Seeming to notice the way he was looking at her, he put his other arm around her, hand still on her swollen belly.

"Yes, I promise."

"Good, then release her. Time to play, right?"

"Yes. Time to play. I must say goodbye first. I hope you don't mind." The Doctor twisted around to kiss the unresponsive Clara on the mouth, forcefully parting her lips to slip his tongue inside. Mr. Clever was practically bristling. The Doctor was making sure he could see everything. He glanced at Mr. Clever out of the corner of his eye as his one-sided make out session continued, his hands running up and down Clara's body. His movements said a million things.

'I'm going to win and you can't have her.'

'She's mine.'

'I'm glad you're jealous.'

'Shall I do more to make you even angrier? I'll most definitely do more when I win.'

'I want her.'

'I'm going to win because of her.'

'You're going to lose and never get to touch her again.'

'See this? It's mine. Everywhere I touch is mine.'

'I get what you can't have.'

'She's mine.'

Mr. Clever growled low in his throat, angry. Did he really have to mock him like this?

The Doctor pulled away, greatly exaggerating the sound of his tongue leaving her mouth. He brought his hand to her face, the caress loving, then let his fingers trail away. She vanished as he lost contact.

Finally, he turned and gestured towards a set of double doors that led out of the room, a large smirk spreading his lips. "Let's go see this maze." He gave a flourish of his hands. "After you."

 

Clara tugged on the doors of the TARDIS, the bag nearly falling off her shoulder. She was cold and her feet were wet from walking through the snow. She hadn't brought a jacket, expecting the TARDIS to let her in. Besides, there hadn't been any in the clothes Mr. Clever had gotten for her.

"Let me in, damn you!" She cried, slamming her fists on the doors. The windows were frosted over with white.

She took a step back and crossed her arms, looking at the machine quizzically.

"What's the matter? Don't want to be alone with me?"

Obviously, there was no response. It just sat there, which for some reason, was starting to feel very rude.

"Seriously, I need your help," she said, looking at it hopefully. She felt slightly ridiculous talking to it, but the Doctor had claimed time and again that it was sentient, that it could hear what was spoken.

"What is wrong with you, you stupid snog box?!" she yelled, slamming her fists into it once again. She was glad that the Doctor hadn't parked it on a main street. She would have looked absolutely insane. "Let me in!"

And, like that, one door opened with a slight creak. Looking at it curiously, she stepped inside. Why was the TARDIS suddenly listening to her?

She closed the door behind her, making sure it was locked. She went over to the console and put the gun down, feeling safe for the first time in days. It surprised her that she had gotten used to a spaceship that was bigger on the inside, that she was comfortable with calling a place like this home.

"So," she said, leaning on the console near the monitor. "You know what we're up against, right?"

The machine made a few beeping sounds that seemed like a positive response.

"Alright. What are we going to do?"

More beeping. It didn't really serve as an answer, but she responded anyway. The sound was helping her think. It was like she actually had someone to talk to.

"Defense plans. Good idea." Clara looked around. "Any place where I can get something to block the doors with? Also, I might need more weapons than this." She kicked the black bag at her feet, her mind starting to race with plans. She knew exactly what she had to do.

The TARDIS beeped again, and the sound was almost questioning.

Clara smiled for the first time in what felt like ages.

"We're going to turn you into a fort."


	31. Chapter 31

"So, what kind of maze is this?" Mr. Clever asked, sticking his hands casually in his pockets as he walked in front of the Doctor. The hallway was gray and metallic, lit by strips of green lights that ran up and down the sides. Unable to remember the design process, the Doctor wondered why he had made it so creepy.

"How would I know?" the Doctor retorted. "I forgot everything about it."

Mr. Clever stopped, his jaw clenching. The Doctor stood by his side.

"You're lying."

"You know I'm not. You didn't hear my heartbeats quicken, did you?" The Doctor walked past him, coming to a place where the hallway branched off in three directions. Looking back, he realized that the doors had vanished. They were stuck in there till the end.

Mr. Clever noticed too and he smirked.

"Scared, Doctor?"

He just ground his teeth and didn't say anything, continuing onward.

"If you follow me-" he began to call over his shoulder, but he was interrupted.

"Oh, I'm not going to follow you," Mr. Clever said, laughing. "What do you think I am? A pet?" He came over and the Doctor couldn't help flinching when he patted him on the shoulder.

"Good luck losing." He continued onward, going straight, while the Doctor took a right turn. He was glad when his footsteps faded away.

"Okay, Clara," he said into the silence. "Here I come."

The Doctor found his strides lengthening until he was running, his steps echoing around the hallway. He wasn't going to lose. Running was faster than walking. He couldn't possibly lose if he kept this pace up.

Outwardly, the Doctor had pretended to be calm around Mr. Clever, but really, he had been panicking on the inside. He was once again facing this abomination, once again in a competition for his mind and body.

He was worried about what he had done to Clara. He knew that he had somehow escaped UNIIT and ended up in his apartment in New York City. Had he taken Clara with him?

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he panted, still running as fast as he could, taking random turns when he was met with them, hoping to anything out there that he wasn't going the wrong way.

"Clara, I'm coming. I swear, I'm coming."

The Doctor skidded to a halt, almost slamming face-first into a wall. He had hit a dead end.

"Damn it!" He slammed his hands against it angrily, his shout echoing around the hallway. "Go away, you stupid wall!"

He gave up and turned back, thinking he would just take a different turn. He went at a jog, expecting another hallway to open up. There weren't any. The hallway was straight, and a few feet away was another dead end.

The Doctor threw himself at it in anger, cursing in a few different languages. He even threw in Gallifreyan for good measure which sounded a lot like angry singing. How could he be stuck here? He had gotten in somehow, so there must be a way out.

The Doctor sat down heavily on the ground, gasping for breath. He was ashamed of the frustrated tears that sprang to his eyes and the ache that formed in his throat. A hopeless situation that was made even more so. He had to win, but he was stuck in this stupid hallway.

He sat there for a few minutes, trying to calm down and think. Maybe parts of the walls were illusions. Rising, he straightened his jacket and bowtie, and began running his hands over the wall to his right. All one hundred feet to the other dead end, all he felt was metal. He began to feel hopeless again, but reminded himself that he hadn't yet tested the other wall.

The Doctor was about halfway down the hallway when his hand slipped through a part of the wall.

'Okay. Just an illusion.'

That left him feeling reassured as he stepped through it…

And promptly fell into water. He choked and flailed his arms in surprise, trying to keep himself afloat. It felt like there was a current that was trying to suck him under, yet the surface looked perfectly calm.

It was more brightly lit in this section, which he was thankful for. The other lighting would have made it difficult to tell the difference between the water and the walls.

The Doctor let himself be pulled under for a few seconds, scanning the water carefully. The maze didn't seem to continue under it at least. So that was the challenge. He had to stay up when it tried to pull him down.

He struggled to the top and shook his hair out of his eyes. He swam forward, the current dragging on his limbs and making his movements slow. He came to an intersection and took a left, panting in exertion. He hoped that he had taken the way where the water would end soon. The current was already becoming tiring.

A half hour later, he was still in the water, hardly able to move his limbs, his eyelids flickering with exhaustion. Maybe he just…

'No! Stop it!'

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, trying to force strength back into his body. He felt a burst of energy and he was off, swimming through the water-filled hallways.

The Doctor took a turn and the current suddenly started pushing him forwards, the water beginning to stream quickly around him. In a panic, he tried to change direction, but his movements and the current sent him spiraling. He held his breath as his head kept being plunged under. He caught a glimpse of a frothing waterfall before he began to tumble downwards. He squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself to land in the water.

The Doctor was completely unprepared for the metal floor he hit with a crunch. His right arm snapped under him, his nose hit with a crack, and some of his ribs shattered. He gave a pained cry and, though dazed, managed to roll onto his back. He half-opened his eyes, wondering how far he had fallen. He could usually fall great distances while sustaining little to no injuries.

There was nothing above him except the ceiling. He groaned in confusion, pain, and irritation, blood spurting down his face.

'Really? Really?! What was I thinking when I designed this?'

The Doctor just hoped that somewhere, Mr. Clever was having worse luck.

 

The maze had tried to kill him five times already. Well, he was convinced that it had.

Mr. Clever brushed off the soot from the explosion he had just narrowly avoided and looked up. Up! That was the only way he could go now, but he saw no ladder to make his ascent.

He frowned, picturing the Doctor just strolling through this place like it was a relaxing, human park, hands in his pockets, humming to himself, knowing he would win.

Mr. Clever looked down when he heard a slight hissing noise. A steaming liquid was seeping out from the walls and trickling across the floor towards him. He was too tired to even react with anger. Instead, he just rolled his eyes and looked up again.

'I have to climb, but with what?!'

Feeling ridiculous, though he had already figured out that the maze could create illusions, he lifted up a hand.

His fingers came in contact with what felt like a rung. He smiled at his victory, but then hissed in pain when the liquid reached his feet. It ate away at his shoes and began to burn his toes.

Mr. Clever gave a cry at the sudden pain and jumped up onto the invisible ladder. He climbed frantically as the liquid, (most likely some form of acid,) seethed and boiled below him, rising rapidly. It was hard for him to find a grip. He couldn't see what he was climbing, and he was beginning to panic, the acid rising higher and higher.

Mr. Clever threw himself to the top and rolled away from the edge, his burned shoes falling away from his feet. He began to relax. That was, until the acid began to pool over the top.

He yelped in surprise and sprang to his bare, slightly burned feet, the metal cold on his skin. He darted down the hallway, and with each stride, his hate for the Doctor grew.

'You felt the need to put me through this hell. Selfish. All I did was take your body.'

He careened around a corner, cursing as the acid lapped at his heels.

"When I find you, I'm going to rip your eyes out," he growled. "With my fingers. And then force them down your throat. Then I'm going to tear out your teeth and stab them into your arms."

Mr. Clever turned another corner, still growling threats at the Doctor, the acid still chasing him as if it was hungry.

"I'm going to break all your toes and fingers and force you to crawl on them. I'm going to cut out one of your hearts and shove it down your throat. I'm going to slice out your tongue so I won't have to hear your pathetic begging. And then-" He found himself laughing as he ran from the acid, laughing in maniac glee. "Then I'm going to tell you what I did to Clara."

 

She stared at her left arm and put her hand to her quivering lips, trying not to sob as tears welled up in her eyes. After fortifying the TARDIS and having a fruitless search for more weapons, she had finally taken off the bandages Mr. Clever had placed on her wounds. Most were just meaningless slashes, but…

The letters carved into the flesh of Clara's forearm blurred in her vision, tears spilling down her cheeks. She choked back a sob and wiped the tears out of her eyes.

He had marked her, like the way ranchers branded cows. He had claimed her as his property.

Clara gingerly ran her fingers over the letters in her arm.

MR. CLEVER

He had written his name in her flesh, spilled her blood with his name.

"I'm not yours," she spat, pulling her hand away. "I'm my own person."

Clara was angry now, the desperation and the sadness gone. She stood and picked up her gun. It was definitely hers now. Next time she saw him, she wouldn't hesitate to shoot.


	32. Chapter 32

It was Christmas. It certainly didn't feel like it was. Christmas was fun and music, family and friends, decorations and presents, not the morning Clara had woken to. She was tired and sore, sleep having evaded her during the night. The baby decided to move around the entire night, like he had been figuring out every inch of her womb. It was spectacular that he could move so much, but she at least wished she could have gotten more than a couple of hours of sleep.

The TARDIS was being extremely helpful, a welcome change. It had made it so that Clara was the only one who could lock and unlock the doors. It had even allowed her to be in charge of some of the voice controls.

The time machine had also tried helping her sleep the night before, conjuring a glass of water when she was thirsty, heating up the mattress when she was cold, anything it could do to get her comfortable.

It hadn't worked.

No. Christmas was definitely not this morning, a morning rife with fear and determination. A morning in which a pregnant woman sat with a gun waiting for the return of either her lover or her tormentor.

 

The Doctor trudged along the eerily lit hallway, broken arm cradled to his chest. He was exhausted, which was strange. How could he become tired in his own head?

'I am fighting poison at the same time I'm doing this,' he reasoned.

It felt like it had been a few hours since the fall, and his body was halfway done healing. Every movement still hurt terribly, but he wasn't going to stop. He would be fine. He could feel his cells repairing themselves.

It had been a difficult few hours. He had been chased by a pack of horse-sized wolves to the edge of a cliff. He had nearly gotten his right foot snapped off by the time he realized the cliff was an illusion: just a bit of solid floor that didn't look like it. He had lost the wolves by crawling into a ventilation shaft that was full of needles. He had ended up having to pry them all out of his skin after. He had also narrowly missed being shot by a Dalek, a slash going through his purple tweed jacket to prove it. He had only escaped the Dalek by luring it into a trap that had been meant for him, the soot from the explosion lingering on his clothes.

And so, after all this, the Doctor trudged. He wished he could just lie down and close his eyes for an hour or two. He hadn't felt this tired in a long while.

There was a statue standing in the middle of the next hallway, hands outstretched, fingers like claws, gray stone face distorted in a silent snarl of anger. The Doctor froze, eyes going wide and staying that way. If he blinked…

Actually, he had no idea what would happen to him if the Angel got him in here. Kill him? But this was only his mind.

'But my mind is a terrifying place,' he reasoned.

The Doctor stared straight at it, unsure of what to do. It was completely blocking his path. He would certainly be caught if he turned and ran.

The Doctor fumbled in the pockets of his jacket, hoping something would appear randomly. Things tended to do that for some unknown reason. Maybe he could find a mirror.

His hand slid over something smooth, like glass. He pulled it out, various pieces of candy falling out with it and scattering on the floor. He would have questioned it, but he had stopped asking a while ago.

The Doctor held it up to one side of his face, one eye looking at the object, the other on the Angel. Yes! It was a mirror!

Having no other plan, he blinked, finding the Angel right in front of him when he regained his focus, hands reaching for his neck, fingers ready to clutch at his flesh. He placed the mirror in its hands so that it was seeing its reflection. Now it wouldn't move. It didn't look like the mirror would fall either. It almost seemed to be gripping it.

The Doctor began to carefully maneuver around the Angel, only taking a deep breath when he was a few feet away. That's when he heard something shatter.

The mirror.

He spun around, ready to once again face the Angel, but before he could look at it, he felt a hand on his neck.

 

Mr. Clever's feet slipped in the burning sand as he climbed another dune. He had stumbled into the desert while running from a Saturnyne. It had looked human, but its gigantic teeth were a dead giveaway. It wouldn't follow him in here. It would burn up if it did.

But, one horror had only led to another. There was sand everywhere, wind whipping it into a blinding frenzy that stung at his eyes and ripped at his skin, leaving thin trails of blood flickering away into the howling breeze. He had an arm over his face in a weak attempt to protect himself from it. It made blood run into his face and hair. He couldn't see anything, but he knew that he had to keep moving.

He wished he hadn't lost his shoes. This would be a whole lot better if every step didn't burn away at the soles of his feet. He wished there was something he could do to cool his skin, but each step just brought him into more scorching sand.

Over the sound of the wind, he heard something that genuinely scared him.

Thunder.

It boomed and shook around him, as if taunting him. Thunder meant lightning, and if anybody was going to get hit by lightning it would be him, the man with metal in his face.

Still blocking his face with one hand, Mr. Clever started to run, his movements made slower by the ever-shifting sand. He had to get out of there. It wasn't safe.

All of a sudden, rain began to pour down on him, the sand that had been whipping through the air dropping as it turned to mud, splattering him with it. Everything was turning to mud faster than it should have, and soon he was slipping in it, his various cuts stinging. It was still hot from when it had been a desert.

It was raining too hard, the water driving him down to the ground with its weight. He slipped and fell, but pushed himself back up, trying his best to run through this terrain that was trying desperately to stop him. Another crack of thunder quickened his movements.

And then, he stepped wrong, the ground sliding underneath him, his right ankle snapping. He collapsed with a cry that was barely audible over the storm. The water drove him down into the mud as if it was trying to bury him.

Gotta get back up, he told himself. His arms shook with exertion as he tried to push himself to his knees. Gotta keep going. I have to win. I have to beat the Doctor. He got to his knees, but couldn't bring himself to go any further. His ankle hurt too much, pain racing all the way up his leg to his hip. It felt like bone had pierced through his skin.

'Don't look at it. If you look at it, you're done for sure.'

Mr. Clever continued his trek by crawling, hands grasping for a grip in the mud. The rain pounded into him, hard enough to bruise his flesh and cut his skin. There was another clap of thunder, the air shaking with the immense force of it. He wanted to wail in despair. He had to get out of here.

Somehow, Mr. Clever could sense it coming before it hit him. He found himself looking up into a blinding blue light. His body, and everything in it, burned, almost as if he had been doused in lava. His voice ripped from his throat and was quickly torn away by the wind.


	33. Chapter 33

The Doctor landed on something that was fleshy and bony at the same time. Maybe it was some type of weird floor. Or maybe not. Floors didn't yelp in surprise and flail their arms wildly.

"Get off of me! Where the hell did you come from?!"

The Doctor was shoved off of his cushion onto the actual floor, which was cold metal. Good thing he hadn't landed on that. Mr. Clever, who was flat on his back beside him, didn't look happy.

"You?" the Doctor questioned, rising to his feet.

"Yes, me," he spat. It was a struggle for him to move, and he realized why when he saw his ankle. It was broken and there was a hole in his flesh where a bone had no doubt torn through. This caused him to do more of a surveying of his opponent. The metal on his face was warped out of shape and red designs crawled out from it, spreading across his face and neck and diving beneath his clothing. It probably covered almost the rest of his body. He also happened to be barefoot.

"What happened to you?"

Mr. Clever didn't answer. He seemed pleased when he looked up at the Doctor's broken and haggard state.

"And here I was thinking you were having an easier time than I was."

"I told you I wasn't cheating." The Doctor sat down with his back against one wall, knees pulled up. Mr. Clever dragged himself over and managed to sit next to him. There was no fear between them at the moment, just the regular tension, but not anger or need for dominance. Currently, in the states they were in, they were equals.

"What happened to you?" he repeated, hoping he would get an answer this time.

"Got hit by lightning," he mumbled. He looked over at the Doctor. "You?"

"Fell from a waterfall. What about your shoes? Where'd they go?"

"Acid." It was silent for a bit before Mr. Clever asked, "How did you get here?"

"Weeping Angel transported me here. Sorry I fell on you."

Mr. Clever snorted in amusement and glanced at him. "Why are you apologizing to me?"

The Doctor shrugged. "We're both in the same situation right now," he explained. "Both trying to win a game." He looked away from him, at his feet instead. "Why did we make it a game? Calling it that makes it seem so petty."

"Maybe because it is a game," Mr. Clever replied. "You have finally realized that we're the same person, right?"

The Doctor just nodded. He'd known it for quite some time now. Mr. Clever couldn't be anybody but him: his dark side, his black heart, his cruel desires. The Cyber-Planner had just let him out.

"Why are you me?" he asked hopelessly. "Why do I have you in my head?"

Mr. Clever looked at him a long while before responding. "I'm also in your hearts." He poked him in the chest. "You pretend that your hearts and intentions are pure, that they're golden. We both know they're not. They're colder than even the worst winters on Gallifrey. Maybe that's where they came from. Your hearts of ice."

The Doctor just stared down at his feet, silent. He was right. Every word he said was truth. He wasn't a good man. He didn't have hearts of gold or intentions of a hero. He was cold and cruel. Over one thousand years of a harsh life could do that to someone.

"I'm good sometimes, though." He still didn't look at Mr. Clever. "I know I am. I've saved people. Billions and billions of people. I care about things. That's more than can be said for you."

"Maybe I do care about some things."

"Oh yes, I forgot," he said drily, glancing over at him. Himself. "You care about how much pain others feel so that you can decide how happy it makes you," he sneered.

"I care about Clara."

The Doctor found himself laughing darkly at the statement. "I highly doubt that."

"Do you?"

"Yes. How could you care about her with all you've done to her? That's not caring. What you have with her is a sick, depraved obsession."

"I want her as my own."

"See what I mean?"

"No, you don't get it." Mr. Clever shook his head angrily. "I want her to accept me, to like me, to love me, but she doesn't, not like the way she does with you. It's not fair." His eyes wandered away from him. "It's not fair. It's not fair! It's not fair!" If his ankle hadn't been broken he would have been stomping his feet. He turned his gaze back towards him, his eyes full of hate and anger. "Why are you the one who gets loved? Hmm? Why do you get all the attention and care? Why does anyone even like you?! It should be me! Why can't it be me?!"

"I-"

"You stole everything from me! My life! My mind! My body! You took everything that ever mattered!" His shriek echoed around the hallways.

The Doctor had no time to move away as Mr. Clever lunged for him. He was on top of him, his hands around his neck, crushing. He choked and grabbed desperately at his wrists, trying to make him let go.

"I didn't do anything," he spat, voice nearly cut off. "You did it all yourself. No one is going to ever like someone like you." His vision began to dim, but he kept going, desperate. He had to stop him from killing him. "No one desires someone who would hurt them and get joy out of it. No one desires someone who's done the things you've done." His fingers were loosening on his wrists and his head fell back against the floor. He was losing. His neck screamed to be released.

"And what about you? You've done terrible things."

"I-I know. I know I have." The Doctor found tears trickling down his cheeks. He would have sobbed if not for the hands on his throat. It felt like his neck was going to break. That's how he would die anyway. It would take a long time for him to die from strangulation. Mr. Clever was just dragging it out.

"Then why do they care about you?"

"I regret everything I did," he gasped out, tears running faster. Pain was making his vision go red. "I regret all of it. There are days where I'm so consumed by guilt that I just want to kill myself." He moaned and twisted his head away as Mr. Clever's fingers tightened. He was surprised his vocal chords were still working. He squeezed his eyes shut, still crying. He couldn't die. Not now. Not here. He had to win.

"Then why haven't you done it, yet?"

"F-Friends," he gasped out. He couldn't feel the floor underneath him or the tears on his face. All he could feel were the crushing hands around his neck and the pain they brought. Pain. So much pain.

"I don't have any," Mr. Clever growled.

The Doctor groaned loudly as agony coursed through his body. It was all too much.

"Do you ever feel guilt?" he whispered. Mr. Clever's grip relaxed slightly and the Doctor continued speaking, feeling relieved. Maybe he could get him to stop.

"Do you ever feel sorry for the things you've done? Do Clara's cries haunt you when you're all alone at night?"

"I would be weak if I allowed that to happen." His grip loosened even more though. The Doctor was surprised that it hadn't tightened again. His fingers were no longer threatening to break his neck.

"No. You wouldn't. Once, I thought that detaching myself and feeling nothing would make me strong, but it didn't. After a while it all built up and I fell harder than I ever had before. Emotion isn't weak. Not feeling it is."

"Why?" Now his grip was only strong enough to hold him in place. Pain arced through the Doctor's body, but he kept quiet, moving his head to look back at the man above him.

"Emotion is such a scary thing," he replied. "If you love, you have the chance of being hurt. If you hope, you have the chance of disappointment. Emotions give the bad things a chance. It's brave to feel something, anything at all. Once you do, you're opening the door to good and bad. Feeling nothing at all is becoming scared and closing the door, slamming it shut so you never have to hurt again. I tried that, but I reached for the door again, and once I opened it a crack, it just flung all the way open by itself. Emotions are amazing, beautiful and terrifying all at the same time. Maybe you should give it a try."

Mr. Clever rolled off of him, sitting next to him with his knees pulled up. "I do feel." His tone was dark.

The Doctor let himself close his eyes, unable to lift himself from the floor. The pain throbbed and pulsed through his nerves.

"Lust, cruelty, hate, anger," he listed. "That's the wrong way of doing it."

"Then what am I supposed to feel?" Mr. Clever asked drily. "You seem to be an expert," he mumbled.

"Nobody's an expert at feeling. Nobody can perfectly master their emotions. Trying will ultimately lead to failure." He winced at the throbbing in his neck. "Let yourself feel something other than all that."

"How? How, damn you?!"

"Be happy."

"I-I can't."

"Why not?"

The Doctor was left in silence for a few minutes. All he could hear was the beating of his hearts and Mr. Clever's angry breathing.

"I'll only be happy when I win."


	34. Chapter 34

The Doctor woke in a panic. He hadn't realized he had fallen asleep. He had lost precious time. He –

Mr. Clever was unconscious on the floor beside him, laying on his back with one arm flung out to the side. The marks from the lightning seemed to be fading from his skin and his ankle looked better.

'I'm still doing better than you are,' the Doctor thought triumphantly. His body felt completely healed from his ordeals, and he was ready to continue on. He got to his feet, straightened his coat, (ruined as it was,) and walked away. He didn't care that he was leaving Mr. Clever behind him. He would have more of a chance of winning this way.

The maze was actually rather boring for the next hour or so, but it only made him nervous. Was it doing this so it could attack when he had his guard down?

The Doctor continued on, not sure what to make of this new development – well, lack of one. He was glad for the break, but he began flinching and bringing his arms up to protect himself every time he turned a corner, expecting something horrible to happen. Nothing ever did, and the longer he went without an incident, the more jumpy he became.

Turn. Nothing. Turn. Nothing. Turn. Still nothing.

It put the Doctor on edge and made his skin crawl. He jumped at every noise, even if it was just the echo of his own footsteps or the hum of the lights. It felt like something was watching him, waiting for him to turn the next corner.

Taking a deep breath, he did, hearts racing furiously. Nothing happened. The hallway looked the same as all the rest: gray and metallic with spooky green lights; empty.

The Doctor found a shiver racing up his spine. He hugged his arms to his chest and continued onward, gazing suspiciously in every direction. Something was definitely watching him. He could feel eyes on him from every direction. He wanted to run, but running would only bring him closer to the unseen eyes at his front while he became distant to those at his back.

Instead of running, he did the only thing he could do. He sat on the floor and pulled his knees up to his chest, anxiously rocking back and forth, eyes surveying the empty and silent hallway around him. It was wrong. Everything felt so wrong. He wasn't in any immediate danger or peril, or so it looked that way. But those eyes. He could feel them. Unblinking. Unmoving. All trained on him. Waiting. But for what?

The Doctor clutched his head in his hands, still rocking. An ache was beginning to form at his temples and behind his eyes. He moaned in pain and despair, his voice echoing around the hallway and causing him to shiver.

A sound. It seemed so foreign in the silence, so exotic and alien. What was noise? How could it possibly exist in this staring emptiness?

'What am I going to do?' He despaired. 'If I move, I'll be caught by something. If I stay, I'll lose.'

The realization left a dark pit in the Doctor's stomach that resonated outward to the rest of his body until his hands were shaking. He was trapped right there in that seemingly empty hallway. Maybe he should move. Maybe movement was better than staying still.

But those eyes… He could fill them on him. Millions of them, all burning with cold hate. If he moved, he would be snatched up by their hidden owners.

He sobbed and the noise frightened him. He snapped his head up and looked around, eyes wide. Where had that come from?

The hallway was silent, the only sound his hearts beating in his ears.

He sobbed, and there it was again! The noise! He swiveled his head around frantically, wondering where it had come from. Where was his evasive attacker? What was that noise?

The noise didn't stop this time. It continued. It was the sound of someone crying, releasing tears of hopelessness and fear.

The Doctor warily got to his feet. The crying hadn't stopped. He had to find whoever it was and help them. The eyes couldn't keep him from doing that.

He walked slowly through the maze, trying to follow the sound, but it seemed to be everywhere, all around him all the time. Where was it coming from?!

The Doctor stopped, once again feeling despair. He placed his head in his hands. His face was wet. Wet with what? He flicked his tongue out to taste the liquid, examining the few clear droplets on his hands. It was salty.

He had found who was crying.

It was him.

The realization shocked him and he looked around as if coming out of a daze. What had he been doing?

The Doctor found himself laughing at his own foolishness. How could he not have realized he was crying? He couldn't even remember why he had been crying. The situation was rather amusing.

'I'm so stupid,' he thought, but it wasn't hurtful, only amused.

With a smile on his face, the Doctor continued through the maze.

 

Mr. Clever's stomach growled in hunger. It only made him frustrated. How could he be hungry in here? He hadn't gotten hungry in his own mind before.

'It's probably just the maze,' he told himself, trying to ignore the pangs in his stomach. 'It has to be.'

It surprisingly hadn't thrown anything at him lately. He hadn't had to run from anything or fight anything. He was just left wandering in the dim light feeling like he needed food.

And feeling angry. The Doctor had been gone when he woke up. How long had he been unconscious, laying there prone like that? It made him feel vulnerable and frightened, feelings that he would never admit to anyone.

Feelings. It was such a silly word, something that sounded so small but had so much meaning. He couldn't help thinking about his conversation with the Doctor before they had both unwillingly fallen asleep.

"Feel something other than cruelty," he said, mimicking the Doctor with a high-pitched, whining voice.

"I do," he responded. "Of course I do. I can feel happy. Happiness is a thing that I've felt."

Mr. Clever fell silent as he continued through the maze, trying to drive his mind away from his encounter with the Doctor. He began to focus on how hungry he was.

'Stop it!' He smacked himself in the head. 'You're not hungry,' he chastised himself. 'It's the maze! You're not hungry!'

But he was. It felt like hunger was eating away at his stomach, gnawing on it with sharp teeth and raking at it with merciless claws. He clutched his stomach, wanting to curl in on himself. Who knew hunger could hurt so much?

Mr. Clever stumbled against the wall and doubled over at the unrelenting pangs in his abdomen.

'Hungry. So, so hungry.'

He had to find something to eat. Anything.

He found the end of his coat in his mouth before he even realized what he was doing. He gnawed on it for a bit, but only ended up spitting out mud. No, that definitely wouldn't do.

He stumbled further down the hallway, saliva forming at the corners of his mouth and dripping over. There was a horrible, agonizing void in his abdomen.

'Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.'

That's all he could think about. Nothing else mattered. He had to find food somehow. He felt like he was dying, like everything in his body was slowly disappearing.

'So hungry.'

Mr. Clever saw something move in the corner of his eyes and he quickly snapped at it, his teeth coming in contact with flesh. Sweet, sweet flesh.

He gnawed and chewed, trying to get a piece of the meat. It was bony, but it still had flesh on it.

Pain.

He found his index finger in his mouth, tightly wedged in his teeth. He hurriedly pulled it out and examined it. It was covered in blood and saliva and bite marks.

'Oh…'

Mr. Clever didn't know what to think. He had tried eating his own finger. How could he have mistaken a part of his body for something else, something to eat?

'Hungry.'

It scared him that the maze was doing this to him. It was turning him into a crazed animal that would jump at anything that moved, teeth bared. He needed food. The void in his stomach had somehow gotten worse. How was that even possible?

He groaned, still leaning on the wall to hold himself up, staggering onward. He had to win. He had to –

'Hungry. So hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Food. Want food. Must eat. Flesh. Blood.'

The thoughts were making him drool and he wiped his mouth on the corner of his jacket. He stopped suddenly. Blood. He could smell it. Fresh blood waiting to be lapped up, trickling from flesh that would meet his jaws.

He bit at it crazily, not questioning where it had come from. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that he had something to eat.

Mr. Clever didn't even care about how it tasted as it entered his mouth and went down his throat, didn't care what it was.

Pain suddenly sparked into his nerves. He yelped and yanked his hand out of his mouth, eyes wide with horror. He had… Some of the flesh on his hand was missing, blood gushing from the wound. Blood, delicious blood.

'So hungry.'

He stopped himself before he could stick his hand back in his mouth, feeling sick. He had eaten some of his own hand.

Mr. Clever leaned over and retched violently, the void in his stomach deepening. It hurt so badly. It felt like his insides were turning against each other in a crazy fight for food.

'Food. So hungry.'

 

The Doctor was actually relieved when the maze threw something at him. He had been waiting for something to happen for what felt like forever.

It came in the form of gas, a noxious yellow cloud that came through the ventilation shafts above his head and at his feet.

'Not too much of a challenge,' he thought, beginning to hold his breath. 'But I still better get out of here as soon as possible.'

He ran through the hallways, the gas stinging his eyes and making them water. His body protested at his movements. Running and not breathing. It was something he really didn't like.

If he was breathing, he would have been gasping as he continued, flying down hallways and careening around corners. He wished to find a clear hallway, but everything was filled with the gas that was becoming thicker and thicker by the minute. It was getting hard to see. His exposed skin was burning.

'Come on. Come on. Go away!'

It was getting harder to keep going like this. His lungs ached and his legs screamed in protest. Oxygen. He needed oxygen.

The Doctor held his breath until tears spilled down his face from the exertion. He couldn't breathe. Breathe and he would die. Breathe and he would –

His mouth fell open and he found himself gasping in breaths before he could stop. Deep breaths that should have felt wonderful, but burned instead and made his mind feel cloudy.

'No, no!'

He tried holding his breath again, but his body wouldn't allow it. It had missed the action of breathing and was now reveling in it as it simultaneously screamed. Everything hurt. It felt like his insides were disintegrating, like his skin was being burnt off.

Even through all this, the Doctor continued running. He had to. If he stopped he would die for sure. If he ran, he at least had a chance.

The maze danced and shook in his slowly dimming vision, making him nauseas. His legs didn't want to work and he found himself stumbling as he ran, tripping over his own feet.

'No! Come on!'

The Doctor was panicking, but instead of speeding up, his body was slowing down. It was under attack from all sides. The gas was in his lungs and nose and mouth, burning in his eyes and scorching his skin. He fell to the floor with a painful thud.

'Can't give up. Can't give up.'

He crawled and dragged himself down the hallway, moaning with each movement. He was dying. He was certainly dying.

'No! I can't!'

He screamed as he felt something suddenly shut down. His right heart. It froze him in place and made him arch his back as excruciating agony reached all the way to his toes and fingers. He gasped and panted as the pain continued, unable to scream. It hurt too much to scream.

Tears sprang into his eyes, tears of despair and hopelessness. He banged his fist weakly on the ground.

'I can't die! I can't die!'

And then he started thinking of Clara, everything about her all at once. Her smile, her voice, her laugh, her beautiful brown eyes, her soft hair, her arms as she held him close after they made love, her fingers intertwining with his.

He felt a surge of determination that pushed him back to his feet. He stumbled through the hallways as fast as he could. He had to get out. He had to breathe in something other than this scalding poison.

'Clara, I miss you. I'm coming. Hold on.'

The Doctor found himself running again, not sure how he was managing it. He gave a pained cry as one of his kidneys failed, but kept going. He had to keep going.

He questioned how he was doing this while his body was slowly shutting down, while he only had one functioning heart and his lungs were shriveling up and dying.

It was because of Clara. He needed to see her again. He had to. There was no other option. Clara was his only option. Anything else was unacceptable.

'I never told you I loved you. Not properly, anyway. I am going to find you again. I am going to win. I am going to live. I am going to tell you. I am going to kneel down at your feet and –'

The Doctor fell into a hallway that was clear of gas and was left choking and gasping for breath, crawling away from the poison behind him. He shuddered and choked, his body shaking violently. He felt his right heart beginning to come back, slowly pumping blood again.

He sighed heavily in relief and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. His lungs hurt terribly, but it felt so good to breathe in this wonderful, sweet air. Now he could get to her. Now he would be able to get to Clara, his Clara. The Impossible Girl. She was the one who was keeping him alive.

 

Mr. Clever ran for his life, chest heaving, throat burning, legs screaming with exertion. He was pushing himself too hard. He couldn't remember how long he had been running for.

The hunger had finally passed, leaving him feeling completely normal except for the wounds on his hand. He tried not to look at it, tried not to think about it. He couldn't have possibly…

There was hissing all around him: above, behind, on all sides. He gasped desperately for breath that was not coming as he pumped his legs wildly. Had to get away. Had to leave the hallways that were full of snakes.

Snakes. It seemed absolutely ridiculous. He had faced monsters and forces bent on destroying him, but nothing scared him more than these hallways that were absolutely filled with snakes. They fell on his shoulders and flicked their tongues out at his flesh. He could feel their teeth hungering for him, wishing for a bite.

They were poisonous, he figured. They had to be. Why would the maze give him snakes without making them poisonous?

And so, he ran, as fast as he could, as fast as his legs would allow him. It didn't feel like it was enough. He was going to get bitten sometime. And then he was going to die.

That time came sooner than he imagined. A large yellow snake landed heavily on his left shoulder, sinking in its teeth with a hiss. He screamed and fell, trying desperately to remain conscious. His left shoulder. It had to be the left shoulder.

He shook himself, trying to throw the snake off of him, but it clung to him as if it would die without its teeth in his flesh. And all the while he screamed… and screamed… and screamed…

Mr. Clever could feel the poison entering his veins, scorching its way through his blood, but that didn't matter at the moment. All the nerves on his left shoulder, possibly the most sensitive part of his body, screamed in agony with him.

'Stop! Stop! It has to stop!'

He reached up a hand and tore the snake off of his shoulder. He had been down too long. He could sense others swarming around him, curious and hungering. So, against all odds, he stood up, clamped a hand to his bleeding and poisoned shoulder, and ran.

He had no voice by the time the snakes were long behind him.


	35. Chapter 35

The Doctor burst into a room at the end of a hallway, gasping for breath, hoping he hadn't just made it into another trap. He stopped, stooped over with hands on his knees, and surveyed the place around him.

The room was completely white: the walls, the floor, and the fluorescent lights that were attached to the ceiling. It was circular, empty except for his TARDIS that stood about fifteen feet away from him. A key sat on the floor next to it.

'What is this? The end?'

He continued looking around, trying to find anything that would reveal this to be a trap. The floor and walls were bare.

The TARDIS might be a trap though, he told himself.

Right as he thought that, an intercom crackled to life above him. He recognized his own voice coming from it: a recorded message.

"Clara is in the console room of the TARDIS," the message began. "Retrieve the key, and whoever touches her first returns to the body. The loser will remain stuck in here. And, if this is me, well you, Doctor..." There was a pause, almost as if he had been thinking while recording the message, "Good job."

The Doctor only cocked an eyebrow at this. The recording sounded as if he had meant to say more, but those were the only words of praise he could muster for himself. The voice was choked.

"And Mr. Clever, if this is you…" The voice grew dangerous and angry. "I hope that this experience was hell for you and that you do still die of poisoning when you take the body back. There's still a chance of that happening, mind you, and it will be very painful. If the Doctor can't win, he can at least know that you went out suffering."

The intercom shut off and the Doctor was left in silence.

It was this easy? It couldn't be this easy. All he had to do was walk across the room, pick up the key, and go into the TARDIS. It couldn't really be that simple.

But it was.

The Doctor sprinted away from the doorway, beaming, panting in elated expectation. He was going to win! He was the winner!

And in the center of the room, he got stuck. He sank into the floor up to his ankles. Panicking, he tried to pull himself out, but his feet wouldn't move. It felt like they were embedded in concrete. He was stuck.

And he was sinking.

"It couldn't have been that easy," he muttered. "I knew it."

 

Mr. Clever tumbled to the floor, eyes closed, gasping for breath. Everything in his body hurt and his left shoulder felt like it had been lit on fire more than once.

'Can't lose,' he thought. 'Can't lose.'

He opened his eyes and looked around, wondering where he was. Bright lights glared down on him from the ceiling, illuminating the walls all around him, formed into an octagonal shape. He got to his feet, and the walls all around him did the same. They were mirrors, each one showing an image of him from a different angle. He spun around and realized that the entrance was gone. He was stuck.

"Fantastic," he said sarcastically. His voice seemed extremely loud in the silence. "Stuck with nothing to do but look at myself."

Despite the sarcasm of his words, Mr. Clever walked up to one of the mirrors and examined himself. How bad did he look after all this time in the maze?

He was coated in a mixture of dried mud and blood, his clothes torn and ragged. His bare feet had left dirty smudges on the white floor. Outwardly, he didn't show any signs of electrocution. The metal on his face seemed to have fixed itself, putting itself back into its original shape. It was meant to repair itself anytime it got damaged.

Mr. Clever touched it with a few curious fingers, loving the feeling of the metal and the wires. This thing was his savior. It had brought him back after the Doctor had banished him to the farthest corner of his mind. He had been so lost for so long, and then he saw light, a cold, blue, flashing light. That's what the technology was doing now, as it always did. Flashing blue.

'Such a silly color,' he thought. 'Blue for the TARDIS. Blue for the sky. Blue for this beautiful piece of technology in my face.'

It was beautiful. He had deemed it so. It was so different and strange, so wonderful. He loved every piece of it, every detail, every curve and corner. It was a part of him, and he loved it.

Mr. Clever drew back from the mirror, realizing that he had let himself get distracted. He almost laughed at that. Getting distracted by his own reflection seemed stupid and petty.

'But how do I get out of here?'

Of course he had been distracted by his own image. That's all he saw wherever he looked. Every single wall was a mirror with his image dancing across it every time he moved.

'Stop being distracted!'

He closed his eyes, blocking out all the mirrors. They were making him dizzy. It wasn't going to help him get out of here. His reflection could do nothing to help him.

'What if I just broke the mirrors? Would there only be wall behind them? Will I still be stuck?'

Mr. Clever had no idea what the result would be if he broke the mirrors, so he opened his eyes, determined to do it anyway.

"Trial and error," he said out loud, cracking his neck as he walked up to one mirror. His reflection looked back at him, desperate and tried.

Mr. Clever ripped pieces off of his ragged coat and wrapped them around his fists, hoping that it would prevent him from slicing himself on the glass.

He punched the mirror in front of him. He screamed in agony and fell to the ground with the glass. It felt like he had shattered, like he was now in crumbled pieces on the floor.

Breathing deeply, he opened his eyes to survey the damage, but his physical state hadn't changed. There was only the broken glass on the floor.

'So it hurts me every time I break my own reflection.'

He pushed himself to his feet, pain lacing through his body, and faced the next mirror. Maybe that was the test. Maybe he had to endure breaking every single one, and then he would be free.

He managed to stay on his feet when the next mirror broke, gritting his teeth against a scream, sweat beginning to break out on his forehead as he fought the pain. Six left. He could do this. He'd already broken two.

Mr. Clever screamed and stumbled into the wall as the third mirror shattered. His knees began to buckle, the pain cutting into his senses as if he had been broken like the glass.

The rest of the mirrors were a struggle to break. The pain was making him weak, and each blow brought more as the glass came crashing down around him. He often ended up on the floor, groaning and crying and wishing it would all stop. But he had to continue.

The last mirror broke. He fell to the floor, glass shards crushing underneath him. He curled up into a ball, yelling as loud as he could. Somehow, it felt like expressing how horrible he felt would make it all better.

And suddenly, it was gone. All the pain was gone. His eyes flew open and he lay gasping on the floor, feeling newly alive as it faded from his body. All of it. His shoulder felt healed and he no longer felt like he had been broken into a million pieces.

He staggered to his feet, ready to move on.

'I have to win.'

 

The Doctor was stuck up to his knees. He stretched out and reached longingly across the floor towards the key. Maybe if he had it, all this would stop.

He knew he should be trying some more logical way to get himself out of this mess. He had tried, but there was hardly anything he could do. There was nothing he could grab onto to pull himself out.

But he needed the key.

The Doctor reached out with his mind, thinking that maybe he could move it into his hand. He concentrated on it, eyes narrowing so that it was the only thing in his vision, the only thing that mattered.

It flew into his hand and his fingers curled tightly around it. He kissed it, smiling. He was so close to winning! So close!

He was still stuck in the floor. His knees had disappeared under the surface and the rest of his legs were now being swallowed.

The Doctor clutched the key tightly, lovingly. Of course he would love it. It would get him back to Clara, back to his body. But most importantly, Clara.

He placed his hands on the floor in front of him, key trapped beneath his fingers. It was solid. It was only this pit in the middle that was pulling him in. That was good at least.

He tried to push himself out, yelling at the horrible strain on his muscles. He felt movement, and when he looked down, he noticed that his knees were once again above the floor.

'Yes! Come on! I have to do this!'

He was going to continue pulling himself out, but then he heard running footsteps and Mr. Clever suddenly clamored into the room. The Doctor swiveled his head around to look at him. His eyes were amused when he spotted him stuck in the floor.

The intercom came on and the message began to play.

"Clara is in the console room of the TARDIS. Retrieve the key, and whoever touches her first returns to the body…"

Mr. Clever's eyes darted around the room, searching for the key. The Doctor kept his hand over it, hoping he wouldn't see it.

"Doctor, where's the key?" he asked, carefully coming over. He didn't know where the pit started either.

"I-I don't know," the Doctor said, shaking his head, gasping. His arms still pushed in an attempt to get himself out. He had recovered about two inches of leg since Mr. Clever entered the room.

"Yes you do." He came in front of him and crouched down, realizing that the floor was solid there. "Tell me."

"Don't know where." He still kept trying to push himself out. If he got out, he could make a run for it. Mr. Clever didn't know he had the key.

"I'm a little busy at the moment," he added, voice tight. "Why don't you go look for it?"

He was taken by surprise as Mr. Clever suddenly lunged forward and grabbed his chin. The Doctor's hands curled into fists, fingers clutching the key. He couldn't have it. He couldn't take it from him.

"Where is it?" His eyes were dangerous and cruel, but that didn't scare the Doctor. The only thing that scared him at the moment was that he had resumed sinking into the floor.

"I don't-"

"You have it, don't you?" Mr. Clever growled. He released his chin, but only to grab for his hands. The Doctor pulled them away. No point hiding the key now.

"Aha!" Mr. Clever grabbed his wrists, trying the reach the key. The Doctor sank his teeth into his flesh and he released him with a cry of pain. It was only momentary though. He came back, reaching for his hands.

"Give it to me!"

"No! I got here first! I won!"

"Not yet!"

It was a wrestling match with one man nearly halfway embedded in the floor and the other attacking from his knees. The Doctor was punched in the face, but he didn't release his grip on the key. It was his key. The key for his TARDIS that held his Clara.

And then, Mr. Clever fell, flipping and tumbling over the edge. He landed on his back and the floor grabbed him. The Doctor was suddenly shoved out of the pit, thrown several feet, almost hitting his head on the TARDIS doors. He climbed up, key in hand, ready to unlock the doors and win.

"Doctor." Mr. Clever's voice was choked.

The Doctor spun around and found him up to his chest in the pit. One hand had somehow escaped and he was reaching desperately out for him. His eyes were frantic and terrified.

"Why should I help you?" the Doctor asked, sauntering over, flipping the key in his fingers. His confidence had returned. He had won.

"Because that's what you do," he said. He looked down at the pit. He was sinking up to his shoulders now. "Please. I-I'm sorry."

The words sounded strange coming from him, unnatural.

"Sorry?" the Doctor asked, not buying it.

"Really. I-I am." He glanced down at the pit again. "Help me out. Please."

The Doctor shoved the key in his front trouser pocket and reached for Mr. Clever's hand, wondering why exactly he was doing this. This man had done horrible things. This man had hurt him, had hurt Clara, had…

This man was him.

So, the Doctor held firmly onto his hand and pulled, yelling through gritted teeth. He was beginning to slide out, the floor once again up to his chest.

And then his hand was gone, released from his grip and delving in his pocket. The key! It was in his hand before the Doctor could react, held out of his reach.

"What are you doing?! Give that back!"

"If I can't have her," Mr. Clever sneered. "Then neither can you." He was sinking again, faster, the key still in his hand. "Bye-bye, Doctor. I guess nobody wins this time."

He was smiling as his face got pulled under, smiling as if he had won, smiling in enjoyment at the horror on the Doctor's face. His hand was still above the floor, sinking quickly. Soon, only the tips of his fingers and the key were above the surface.

The Doctor lunged forward, grabbing the key from Mr. Clever's tight grip. The floor didn't try to swallow him this time. It already had one victim. He suspected that that was all it needed.

Mr. Clever was gone.

 

The Doctor lay there on his stomach for a few moments, heaving huge breaths of relief. He looked at the key, smiled, and scrambled to his feet, rushing to the TARDIS doors. He had to get to Clara.

He threw the doors open and ran inside the console room. There she was. Just standing a few feet away and smiling. She didn't really see him, wasn't really there. It was just a mental image, but it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, because it was her.

He reached out a hand and touched her face.

 

Mr. Clever came to, gasping, hands scrabbling around desperately to search out his surroundings. He was alive? How could he possibly be alive? He had lost.

The message that had played over the intercom came into his mind.

"The loser will remain stuck in here."

He finally recognized where he was. One of the hallways in the maze with its gray surfaces and dim green lights. He wanted to be sick. He wanted to…

Mr. Clever threw his head back and screamed as loud as he could.

"NO!"


	36. Chapter 36

The Doctor jerked awake and flew off the bed, sprinting to the kitchen before he could even get his bearings, stumbling over his own legs on the way there. He needed chocolate. Chocolate would finish getting rid of the poison.

He rifled through the cabinets, throwing unneeded objects to the floor. He swore he had a bag of chocolate chips in here somewhere.

Finally, he found it. He ripped it open, tilted his head back, and dumped it into his mouth, choking about half the bag down before he stopped to let himself actually chew some of them. The metal made his movements uncomfortable. He was upset that it was still on his face, but he would get rid of it somehow.

He finished off the bag and started looking for another one. He was starting to feel better, energy coming back into his body, aches and pains leaving. It was strange how antioxidants in chocolate could help him with poison, but he didn't question it. Too bad it didn't work that way for humans. It would make it so much easier to cure if it did.

Finding another bag, he sat down in his dining room and shoved his hand inside, coming up with a big handful of chocolate chips. He ate them slower this time, no longer frantic. He would live now. The poison was almost gone. There was nothing to freak out about.

'And now I have to go see Clara.' She obviously wasn't in the apartment, which he didn't blame her for. If he had been her, he would have left too. She had probably gone to the TARDIS.

He leaped up, still chewing a mouthful of chocolate chips. Great! I'll just go to the TARDIS and… I don't know where he parked it.

The thought only discouraged him a bit. He would find the TARDIS and Clara, both of his girls.

'Maybe I shouldn't go like this though. I have to clean up first. But what if she attacks me because she thinks that I'm Mr. Clever? I'll have to do something to show her I'm not.'

Determined, now having an idea, he went back into his bedroom to get ready. He felt giddy with excitement. He was going to see Clara!

 

Though she had been expecting it sometime, Clara was startled by a knock on the TARDIS doors. She got up, gun ready, but couldn't bring herself to open them. She at least moved the boxes and things out of the way.

"Knock, knock," came a voice from the outside. His voice.

Clara just rolled her eyes, but went with it anyway. "Who's there?"

"Doctor." She could practically hear him smiling.

"Doctor who?"

They both laughed on either side of the doors and she opened them. He was standing there with a smile on his half-metallic face, bag of chocolate chips in one hand. A red fez sat on his head. He looked enough like the Doctor, but she hefted the gun anyway. He backed away a bit, looking startled.

"Prove to me that you're the Doctor."

"I thought I just did." He looked hurt. "Besides, would Mr. Clever wear a fez?" He did a twirl, jacket fluttering around him, chocolate chips scattering out of the bag.

Clara braced herself to look into his eyes, afraid of what she might find there. They were happy and sad all at the same time, kind and caring. It was him. It was the Doctor.

"Doctor!" She dropped the gun and tackled him in a hug, the movement made awkward by her bulging belly. He hugged her back tightly, rocking her back and forth, chin resting on her shoulder.

"Clara, my Clara. Beautiful, wonderful, Clara. I-"

The happiness of the moment was suddenly gone. Clara quickly pulled away and slapped him on the side of his face that was still flesh. He jumped back with a cry, startled, fez falling off his head.

"You left me with him!" she shrieked, tears springing to her eyes. "You told me you wouldn't! You told me you would win!" She tried to slap him again, but he just grabbed her wrist.

"Clara, please, just listen to me."

"But you didn't win!" She continued as if he hadn't spoken, sobbing uncontrollably now. She pulled her wrist from his grip and hit him again. He didn't react this time. "You let him hurt me!" She wanted to hit him more, but the sobs were taking over her body. She found herself on her knees on the floor. Her voice was quiet this time. "He hurt me, Doctor."

The Doctor knelt down on the floor in front of Clara, grabbing her shoulders.

"Clara, look at me. Please, look at me." His voice was terribly sad. She complied, trying to blink the tears out of her vision.

"I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I tried to win. Believe me, I did. I tried so very, very hard."

"But y-you did-didn't try h-hard en-enough." They crying was making her breathing hitch. Her chest ached.

"I know, Clara, I know. I'm sorry." He pulled her into a hug and she didn't protest, knowing that this man wouldn't intentionally hurt her.

"H-How are you b-b-back?" she asked. Oh, if only she could stop crying!

"All thanks to you," he said, breaking the embrace to meet her eyes. "The Tylenol you gave me let me put the body into a coma and fight him again." His smile was wide enough to split his face. "And he lost this time, Clara. I won!" He hugged her again. "I won."

 

The Doctor studied the cuts on Clara's arm, seemingly horrified that he had marked her like this. He held her arm up to his face, eyes wide with hurt and disbelief.

"Clara, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"You keep saying that," she told him.

"I know I do. I just can't tell you how horrible I feel that he did this to you." He pulled out his sonic screwdriver, (the TARDIS had given him a new one,) and activated it, waving it over her arm. The cuts closed up, leaving a pale scar that made her want to cry. It was still there!

"The scars will be gone in a few days," he told her. "I'm sorry I can't do better."

She was going to tell him it was okay, but they both knew that it wasn't. She still bore his name in her skin, even if it was just in the form of scars.

"Where else did he hurt you?" the Doctor asked, seeming afraid to ask the question. His eyes held horror, sadness, and caring all at the same time.

"In a… lot of different places," Clara answered, feeling as if it was the only one she could give. How could she show him the rest of her wounds without taking off her clothes?

He came close and took her hand, voice quiet. "Where, Clara?"

Come on, just do it, she told herself. She shouldn't feel vulnerable around this man. He wasn't Mr. Clever. He was the Doctor. He'd seen her naked multiple times and he'd never done anything to hurt her. Mr. Clever had done all that, not him. Then why did she feel so scared?

Clara braced herself and stood from the plush chair that she had kept near the console. She turned her back to him and pulled off her clothes, every movement hurting. She didn't make any sound though. She wasn't weak. She had to show herself that. She had to show him.

The Doctor came forward and gently caressed her back, fingers carefully avoiding any of the slashes there.

"Why did he do this to you?" His voice was choked and hurt.

"He was trying to teach me a lesson," she responded, though she didn't want to remember those horrible days with him. "He didn't like how I kept defying him."

"That's my Clara." She could feel the Doctor smiling. "My strong-willed, strong-minded, Clara."

She breathed a sigh of relief as the sonic screwdriver hovered over each wound on her back, closing them all up. Next he moved down to her legs, the sonic buzzing, one hand gently stroking. She had missed touches like this, contact that wasn't rough and painful. It reassured her even more that this was her Doctor.

He stood and came around to her front, hands on her shoulders, fingers caressing her skin. He looked into her eyes, frowning.

"You're afraid," he noticed.

Clara just nodded. "But, not of you. Just… of him. It should be okay for you to see me like this."

"But it's not okay?" His eyes looked concerned rather than hurt, which surprised her. She hadn't expected that. "Am I scaring you?"

Clara adamantly shook her head. How could she explain this to him? "No, no. I just feel vulnerable. He hurt me so much, and he used your body, and-"

"It's bothering you that we have the same body," he stated. "Right?"

"Yeah." That was the best way to put it.

"But, Clara, remember, he took it from me. I had nothing to do with this, alright? You don't need to be afraid." He seemed intent on making her comfortable.

"Alright."

The Doctor lowered himself to her legs, sonic screwdriver slowly closing up the wounds he had placed on her thighs and shins. It was a huge relief once the pain was gone, and she quickly got back into her clothes. The Doctor had told her that she didn't need to feel afraid, but she did. Her instincts screamed at her to flee. They didn't recognize that it was a different man. All her instincts knew was that this body had hurt her and that she needed to get away. She fought against them and tried to shove them away. It was only the Doctor, the man she loved. It wasn't Mr. Clever, the man she hated.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Clara asked, sitting back down in the chair. She didn't want to trust any of Mr. Clever's words.

"Telling you that I would see you tomorrow," he replied, smiling sadly. "But it's not tomorrow, is it?"

Clara shook her head. "The thirtieth of December," she told him. "Tomorrow's New Year's Eve."

"Well," he said, straightening his jacket, seeming shocked by this information. "I guess I'll be replacing the fireworks tomorrow night."

"What?"

"I'm going to regenerate, Clara. I have to. There's no other way."

"What do you mean, there's no other way?" She stood from the chair to be more level with him. "You stopped him. It's over."

The Doctor shook his head. "All I did was trap him in my head again. He's fighting, trying to get out. He's doing it this very second. I told him he couldn't come back once I won, but he wants to prove me wrong."

"Doctor, you can't let him." Clara brought a hand up to his face. "Please. You don't have to regenerate."

"It's the only way," he told her sadly. "I've already called UNIT."

"UNIT?! Why did you call them?" Anger built up inside of her. Why had he done something so stupid? "Doctor!"

"I need them, Clara." He took her hand, thumb stroking over the back. "I need some kind of authority in this."

"Why?"

"Because it's going to be a big one."

Tears welled in her eyes and spilled over. "But, Doctor-"

"I have to, Clara."

"You told me it hurts." She had to talk him out of this! She didn't want him to regenerate! She wanted him to keep his face, keep his body even though it had been used to hurt her. She didn't want him to go through that agony.

The Doctor just nodded. "But if I don't do it, Mr. Clever and I will be fighting again and he'll hurt you."

"Doctor, I can take care of myself," she whispered.

"I've noticed," he said, smirking, probably thinking of her poisoning him. "Please, Clara. Please stop objecting to this. I'm doing it for you. I have to destroy him, push him so far back into my head that he'll never return."

"So he was there all along?"

"Yes. Even before the Cyber-Planner. He's me, Clara. Mr. Clever's me."

"No. No, he's not. He's not." Clara backed away from him, shaking her head. "Please tell me he's not."

"Mr. Clever, the Doctor, both the same person."

"But you two aren't the same!" Clara yelled. "He hurt me in ways that you wouldn't even consider! He said things that you never would!"

"Another side of me would have done all that," he admitted, voice quiet, looking down at his feet. "Another side of me has done all that. I'm not the good man you think I am."

"Yes, you are. Please, Doctor! You are!"

"UNIT will be here by tomorrow," he told her, acting as if she hadn't spoken. "Probably in the morning. I'll have them work the police to evacuate the city."

"Doctor, you're not the same person as Mr. Clever!" She was shocked that he felt that the city needed to be evacuated for him to regenerate. "Why would you fight yourself?"

"Because I hate that side of myself!" he yelled. "I hate him so much! I wish that part of me didn't exist, but it does! It was me!"

"But you were gone. You weren't here. You were lost in your own head."

"Because another part of me took over," he explained, coming forward. She backed away from the console, feeling frightened and vulnerable.

Clara shook her head, pulse racing as he came up to her. She felt trapped and hopeless. Mr. Clever and the Doctor couldn't be the same person. They couldn't be!

"But I'm here now, Clara." He stroked her face and she unconsciously flinched at his touch. He pulled his hand back as if burned. "I'm going to bury him. I'm going to win once and for all."

"You'll have a different body," she said, tears trailing down her cheeks. "I don't want you to. I don't want you to look different."

"I don't have to," he told her. "I have some of my own DNA to use." He placed a hand on her belly and smiled genuinely. "In here."

"Will it hurt him?" She wasn't feeling afraid any longer. Maybe his plan was for the best.

The Doctor shook his head. "He won't feel a thing. He won't even know. I'll still have the same body. Same face." He tapped the metal. "Without this."

Clara suddenly embraced him, slightly irritated that her emotions were all over the place.

"I believe you, Doctor. I'm sorry I fought with you."

"It's okay, Clara." He stroked his hands over her back. "I understand."

"You have to do this."

He nodded his head against her shoulder. "And I'm doing it for you."


	37. Chapter 37

The Doctor felt as if it was his duty to spoil Clara for the rest of the day. He gave her a massage while she sat in his hot tub, then dried her up once she got out, though she insisted she could do it on her own. He helped her into her pajamas, then made hot chocolate and popcorn for her so they could watch a movie together. He was glad that she snuggled up with him on the sofa, unsure of how she would react now that she knew the truth. She seemed a little hesitant with all this, which made him angry. How could Mr. Clever have done this to her? He had made her afraid of his body. Thoughts of him brought his struggles to get out to the forefront of his mind, but he pushed him away. He had no idea how he was still fighting. Wasn't he trapped for good?

After dinner and another movie, (Clara insisted,) he helped her into bed, his bed. There would be no more hiding and secrets. Besides, she had already seen his bedroom, something he hadn't shown someone in a long, long while. Her presence seemed to make the room better somehow. Every star stood out more, the moons shined more brightly, the rich, dark colors of the night became sharper. All because of her. But nothing could compare to her beauty. Forget Gallifrey's moons and suns and stars – he had Clara Oswald!

"You're staring at me," she noticed as she settled down into the red and gold bed. The lamp on the nightstand made her glorious skin look like bronze.

The Doctor blinked to pull himself away from his thoughts, not realizing that he had been.

"You're just… I missed you." He slid into the bed next to her. She reacted by snuggling close to him, which he saw as an invitation to wrap his arms around her.

"You can't say that enough, can you?" she asked. There was a touch of amusement to her voice.

"How could I?" He put his mouth right to her ear, his voice low. "I love you, Clara Oswald. I love you more than breathing. I love you more than Gallifrey. I love you more than-"

She abruptly rolled around and put a finger to his lips, shushing him.

"Don't put me above all those things," she said gently. "Just say that you love me."

"I do." He was blatantly honest. How could he respond in any other way?

"And I love you." Her brown eyes sparkled as she said it and the Doctor's hearts clenched. He hadn't expected it of her after all that had happened. She needed time to recover, needed to think about everything, needed to – She had said she loved him.

The Doctor almost did it right then and there, almost spoke the words that he hadn't uttered in quite a long while.

'Tomorrow,' he told himself. 'After all this is over. After he's gone for good. I'll do it tomorrow.'

The Doctor smiled at her and kissed her gingerly on the lips. He was about to pull back, as she instantly went rigid, but then her hands came up to stroke his face and she softened, her lips responding to his in a familiar rhythm that he had missed so dearly.

It made him realize how right his choice was. He had never before wanted something this badly. It felt like his entire mind was fixated on it.

'Tomorrow.'

The Doctor knew that he had never made a better decision.

 

Clara watched as the Doctor tossed a sheet over the bloodstained sofa and rug.

"We're meeting them here?" she asked.

"Yes," the Doctor replied, straightening out the sheet. "I gave Kate the address."

They stood in silence for a time, both unsure of what to say. Clara still felt a little frightened of him, even after all he had done for her the day before.

"Doctor, if you won, why do you have to regenerate?" she finally asked. "He's stuck in your head, isn't he?"

He frowned at the question and came over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "That's what I thought last time, and look what happened. He nearly destroyed everything I care about."

Clara wasn't sure how to respond. Everything he cared about? Could he possibly be talking about her?

"I'm tired of leaving him lurking in a corner," the Doctor went on, turning away from her to pace back and forth. "I don't want something bad to happen because of him. Not ever again."

"But, Doctor, if he's you-"

"How am I going to destroy him?" he finished, turning back to face her.

Clara nodded in reply.

"I don't know how to explain. He's a, um… personality that I can get rid of. Regeneration kind of does a clean out, and I figure he's going out with the rubbish." He gave her a hopeful smile. "That good enough for you?"

"I guess…" All of this was still very hard for Clara to comprehend. So Mr. Clever, the man who had hurt her, was the Doctor, but not the Doctor?

"You're worried that I actually did all that to you," he said, voicing her exact thoughts. "Clara, I promise, I didn't."

"But the bad side to you, will it be gone?" She allowed her worry to enter her tone.

"Everyone has a good side and a bad side, Clara," he said, resuming pacing. "Some more extreme than others. I'm two opposites shoved into one body. I've saved billions of people, yet I've hurt and killed billions of others. Sometimes, one side can show more than the other. I have to make sure that side is good." He stopped and gestured around him as a form of explaining the current situation. "Or things like this happen. I'm dangerous, Clara. That's something you have to understand if you want to stay with me."

"Doctor, I do-"

There was a sharp knock on the door, interrupting her words.

"Sorry, Clara. That will have to wait." The Doctor straightened his jacket and went to open the door.

Kate and three of her soldiers abruptly entered before the Doctor could give any form of greeting. She looked businesslike as usual.

"We've been searching for you for days and it turns out you've been in this penthouse?" Kate asked, seeming flabbergasted. "I didn't even know you had this place!"

"Most people don't," the Doctor said coolly. He seemed a little hurt that she hadn't differed between him and Mr. Clever.

Kate came forward and poked him roughly in the chest. "And how do I even know it's you?"

"Would Mr. Clever really call you here so you could help him?" the Doctor asked. Kate stepped back, obviously seeing his point.

"And what do you need help with?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"Regenerating." He clasped his hands behind his back and started pacing again. Clara could practically see the anxiety coming off of him.

"I need you to work with the NYPD and the mayor to order a city-wide evacuation. I don't want anyone getting hurt."

"What do you mean?" Kate looked baffled. "Is regeneration usually that powerful?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Depends on the situation. I just feel that this one's going to be big."

"Big enough to cover almost five hundred square miles?" Kate arched her eyebrows. It seemed like she didn't believe him.

The Doctor stopped pacing, but didn't look at them, out the window rather.

"In the Time War, Time Lords were mostly always killed during the regeneration process. Those who weren't turned themselves into living bombs, creating an explosion that radiated outwards for miles and miles, killing hundreds, thousands. The energy from that kind of blast destroys everything standing in its way. It's a blast that can't be contained or controlled, just let out. It's dangerous, and I don't want anyone getting hurt."

The room was driven into silence by the Doctor's words, quiet, yet intense at the same time.

"Doctor-"

"Do you understand, Kate?" he asked. His voice shook. "I need to know that you understand." He turned back around, eyes filled with a million emotions at once: fear, determination, anxiety, anger, sadness… It went on and on. Clara would have been a sobbing mess if she felt all that she saw in the Doctor's eyes.

Kate nodded her head. "I understand. I'll let you know when the city's been evacuated. Clara, with me."

"No," the Doctor snapped. He stopped and took a deep breath, trying to keep his cool. "She stays with me. For now. You can come get her when it's time."

Clara's chest hurt at the thought of what was to come. She couldn't stay with him while he was regenerating? She couldn't do anything to comfort him or help?

Kate just nodded. She and her soldiers left.

"Doctor, I-"

"Clara, don't fight with me. Please. Don't argue." His eyes were watery; he was holding back tears. "I'm scared right now." He walked over to her and embraced her. Clara held onto him as tightly as she could, hoping that it would at least help him feel a little better.

"I am so, so scared and I don't know what to do with it. Clara, I am frightened as hell, and if you could be strong, that would be so very helpful. Embody the strength that I don't have right now. Please, Clara."

Clara nodded her head against his chest. How could she possibly go against this wish? She would be strong for him.

The Doctor kissed her on the top of her head and held her tighter, a hand running through her hair.

"Thank you, Clara. Thank you."

 

They spent the remainder of the day in the TARDIS, barely speaking, anxiety eating away at their nerves. Kate would call every hour or so with an update on the evacuation. The Doctor was currently talking to her on the phone.

"Yes, yes, I know." He sounded irritated. Then he glanced at Clara, sitting a distance away, anxiously biting a fingernail. His eyes lingered on her for a long time before he turned away and spoke into the phone again. "You can come get her." He took a shaky breath before going on. "The TARDIS is an alley near the apartment. You can't miss it." He hung up the phone with a shaking hand that he then placed on his forehead. His breathing was shuddering and hitched.

Clara stood and went over to him, tears in the corners of her eyes. It hurt to see him like this, see him so frightened. It was a rare occurrence.

She smiled sadly and stroked a hand over his back. He was bent over the console, one arm holding himself up, his face covered.

"Doctor, it will be okay. Everything will be fine."

He lowered his hand and looked at her, eyes rimmed with red. Yet, he smiled.

"I know." He brought up his hand and stroked her cheek, then placed some hair behind her ear. "It's because you said so."

Clara, for the thousandth time that day, found herself at a loss for words. It was nearly unbelievable how much faith he put in her.

"I hate regenerating," the Doctor said quietly. "You're left in agony with no one to comfort you, no one to hold your hand and talk you through it. The only person you can look to in that moment is yourself."

"I'll be there after," Clara told him, still stroking his back. "I will be there and I will be everything you need." She came forward and kissed him on the mouth. He twisted so that he was facing her, hands cupping her face, hers doing the same. The kiss was long and passionate. She nearly forgot about what was bothering the both of them.

Clara gasped as he gently touched her mind, expecting pain, but there was none. She brought her lips back to his. The mental link wasn't painful and one-sided. It was warm and loving, beautiful and sad and genuine. She could see everything in his head, and it nearly drove her crazy. Almost two thousand years of thoughts, emotions, and memories just laying out in the open. She was dotted across his time line, which she could now see as clear as ever. He loved each one of those versions, but he loved the one sharing this moment with him more than anything else.

And he saw her mind, her life. It seemed so short compared to his, but she let him into each moment she had ever experienced. They both saw her mother die, the line that showed the beats of her heart going tragically flat, Clara gripping her hand as if that would make her stay. They both saw her funeral, the sun shining and the birds singing in the most ironic of ways. It had made Clara mad, all that cheerfulness amidst death and darkness. Why was the world, no, the universe, not mourning the loss of such a wonderful woman?

The Doctor slowly pulled away from her, breathing deeply. His eyes flicked open to meet hers. There were tears on both their faces.

"Thank you, Clara." All he could manage was a whisper.

A car suddenly honked outside, ruining the exquisite atmosphere. Clara jumped, startled. Apparently what had felt like a few seconds had actually been many minutes.

The Doctor took her arm in his, giving a sad smile.

"I'll walk you to the car."

The Doctor watched the car pull away, his eyes lingering even when it was long gone. He slowly plodded back to the TARDIS, hands shoved in his trouser pockets. Once he got the call that Clara was safely outside the city, it would be time.

 

It felt like he waited a decade for the phone to ring. Finally, it did. The Doctor didn't leap at it though. He let it ring twice before picking up. Kate's voice was on the other end.

"Doctor, she's safe." There was a hint of humor to her next words. "Let's see those New Year's fireworks."

The Doctor found himself genuinely laughing at that.

"I'll try to put on a good show," he said between giggles. How had Kate, the most serious person he had ever met, made him laugh at a time like this?

He hung up the phone and left the TARDIS, standing a few feet away. His precious spaceship would be able to withstand the blast.

'Okay. It's time.'

The Doctor closed his eyes and breathed deeply a few times, tilting his head back. The air was crisp and cold, smelling of snow.

He took the time to focus his energy. It instantly reached out for the DNA in his and Clara's baby. He smiled at that. Their baby.

It started, his body beginning to burn. He gritted his teeth and spread his arms wide. Golden light, almost like a colorful mist, trailed off of his skin. With a loud scream, he let it consume him.

 

Kate pointed towards something in the distance, a golden column of energy drifting up into the sky.

"There it is. He's started."

Clara hated how her voice almost sounded indifferent. How could you be indifferent watching that?

The energy spiraled higher, nearly reaching the height of the Empire State Building. The sight was incredible and breathtaking, yet horrible all the same. How could so much energy possibly exist in one man? It was amazing, but it also made her stomach churn. She, unlike everyone else that had been evacuated, knew what was at the center of that, knew who was suffering all alone.

The people had been evacuated on a false statement that a bomb had been located and was going to go off.

Clara clutched her coat tight around her, the air seeming to grow colder as that beam intensified. It swirled outwards gently. She almost wondered how such a thing could turn violent.

In the next instant, it did.

 

The Doctor could barely stay on his feet. Every cell in his body was being incinerated and remade. The metal that had been in his face for so long now was melting off, dripping onto the burning pavement. He could see the light through his eyelids, so bright and wonderful. He would have loved it if it hadn't enveloped him in this pain that was like no other.

All he could do to endure it was scream. He would be at a loss for words if asked to describe how much it hurt. His body was being broken, pulled apart, crushed, and unmade. And at the same time it was reforming. All this in the most excruciating process he had ever experienced.

It reminded the Doctor of how he had been forced to regenerate as a form of torture once. Forced into it by his own people, yet he couldn't recall what he had done to receive the sentence. It was a horrible, cruel punishment.

That's what it was this time too. As he burned, he realized that it was a punishment for everything that had happened with Mr. Clever. Mr. Clever was him, he and the Doctor, one and the same. He should take the blame for everything that happened, and he did.

'I'm doing this for you, Clara.'

 

Clara gasped in amazement and shock as the beam of energy suddenly exploded outwards. It became a flurry of white and gold as millions of windows shattered. Buildings – homes, restaurants, offices, everything – toppled over and crumbled, shattered and got swept aside as if they were nothing but sandcastles made at the beach. The Empire State Building rocked violently in the storm of golden energy, but stayed standing.

The sound was terrible, like a hundred bombs going off at once. Underneath that, it almost sounded like a bell, constantly ringing, and then beneath that, gentle chimes. The sounds all mixed together into a nearly incomprehensible cacophony.

The blast dissipated a few miles away from the outskirts of the city. The golden light winked out, save for the column at the center of it, leaving a ringing in the air. The sounds of buildings finishing their collapse could be heard through the night as the column began to fade, slowly working its way back to the ground, to the man who had released it.

 

The Doctor heaved gasping breaths when it was over, falling to his knees on the scorched pavement. There was rubble and fire all around him, but he couldn't comprehend it. He was too focused on how good everything felt.

The Doctor felt so alive that anything before the regeneration seemed dead in contrast. He felt that if he jumped into the air he would be able to just fly away.

And his mind! It was amazing! All his own without some parasite lingering around in the shadows.

He brought hands to his face, marveling at the feeling of his flesh. That was all there was. Just soft, familiar, new skin. The metal was gone.

The Doctor threw his head back and laughed. He laughed in joy and wonder and exultation. He had won. He had won. He had victory!

For a long time, his laughter was the only sound in the night.


	38. Chapter 38

"Kate, I promised I would go see him after," Clara persisted.

"I know you did, but there's no way to get through with all the debris." She had her phone to her ear at the same time she was talking to her. She spoke into it next. "How long till you can get teams in there to start cleaning all this up?"

Clara, feeling a bit useless, walked away, holding her coat tight against her. There were crowds of people everywhere, talking about what had just occurred. She heard some suspicions that it couldn't possibly have been a bomb.

'Hope they don't go thinking too far into that.'

She found a place to go stand on her own, looking out at the destroyed city. It was impossible to know where he was in all that.

Maybe he'll come looking for me, she reasoned. He'd figure out that we can't get through.

Looking at everything – the terrified people with their unfamiliar accents, the destruction of an American city – made her long for home. She had been gone for months, and all she wanted to do was go back. She wanted to see her dad and her friends, go and resume her job for a while before her pregnancy made it impossible.

She spun around excitedly when a familiar sound broke the air. The TARDIS was materializing behind her, making its strange screeching, wheezing sound. The door opened as soon as it landed and the Doctor, her Doctor, jumped out. It was the same man, all the same down to the two little freckles on his neck, and the metal was blessedly gone, leaving the left side of his face clear and wonderful.

"Doctor!" She ran to him awkwardly, holding out her arms for a hug.

"Ah, Clara!" He wrapped his arms around her, hugging tightly, rocking her. "Clara…"

Clara heard murmurs all around them, people gathering, curious about the big blue box that had suddenly appeared.

The Doctor released her and spun to face the gathering crowd.

"Well, hello, everyone." The Doctor clapped his hands together. "Just a little magic trick." He patted the side of the TARDIS. "Would you like to see me do it again?"

The people all looked rather confused, but they nodded and murmured answers anyway.

"All right then. Clara, in you go."

Clara walked into the TARDIS with a skip in her step, though she was trying to ignore all the stares. The Doctor followed and closed the doors, heading over to the console.

"Where are we going?" Clara asked, leaning on one of the railings.

"I figured you'd probably want to go home," the Doctor replied. "Haven't been home in months." He seemed nervous for some reason, but happy all the same. He came over to her once the TARDIS landed, placing his hands on her waist. His smile was anxious.

"What is it, chinny?" she asked him.

He laughed. "Oh, nothing. Just…" He didn't continue, just smiled at her again.

Clara found herself stroking the left side of his face. It was funny how much she had missed the simple feeling of skin there. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his face. His face. All his own, free of metal that represented a horrible, terrible man. He was the Doctor, the man she had fallen in love with.

"Clara," he whispered.

She pulled back, looking at him quizzically. "What is it?"

"I, um…" He cleared his throat nervously, then turned and went over to the console. He tapped his fingers on it. "I have something to ask you."

Clara stepped closer, curious. "Anything."

"Well, I-" He felt around his pockets, seemingly searching for something. Then he picked something up from the console, clutching it tightly. He patted the machine fondly. "Thanks, dear."

"Doctor, what is it?" She was going to force him to turn around, but he did so while she was reaching out for him, falling to one knee in front of her.

Clara put a hand to her mouth to conceal a gasp, knowing what was coming. Could this be real? Was this actually happening right now?

The Doctor locked eyes with her and cleared his throat. "I know I can be a difficult man to deal with and that your time with me has been filled with ups and downs and turns of all sorts, but…" He cleared his throat again, holding up a ring in both of his hands with the tips of his fingers. It had a gold band and the jewel in the middle was blue like the TARDIS, a sapphire. Clara could feel tears in the corners of her eyes.

"Will you, Clara Oswald, the girl who stole both my hearts, the most impossible girl in the whole universe, do the great honor of marrying me?"

There was no silence between his question and her answer.

"Yes, yes! Of course I will!"

The Doctor laughed in relief and happiness, rising and hugging her tightly.

"Thank you, Clara," he breathed. "Thank you." He pulled away and slipped the ring onto her finger, the sapphire sparkling in the lights.

"Doctor, it's beautiful." Clara looked at the ring, then at him, blinking away joyous tears. It felt right on her finger.

"That's good to hear." He slipped his hand through hers. His touch felt so good and familiar. "Let's go and celebrate in your flat, shall we?" He opened the doors and they walked out together.

Clara would have been skipping if not for the extra weight of her baby. She was holding her fiancé's hand, and it was all him. No Mr. Clever, no Cyber-Planner, just the Doctor. Her Doctor. The man she was going to marry.

It was cold and dark in the flat when they entered. The landlord must have turned off the electricity and heating due to her absence. Made sense. She hadn't been able to pay any of the bills.

"I think the TARDIS is cozier," she told him once they were inside.

"Nonsense! I'll get this place spiffed up in no time." The Doctor pulled his sonic screwdriver out of his jacket, a gleam in his eyes. He ran around the flat, screwdriver buzzing, the lights flashing on.

Clara sat in the parlour, shivering. It almost felt colder in the flat than it was outside. The Doctor retrieved her a blanket, promising he would get the heat up and running and make her some hot chocolate. She was satisfied with that and she snuggled into the blanket, wishing it wasn't so cold.

Once done with all this, the Doctor came and sat next to her, handing her a mug that instantly warmed her hands. She sipped at the hot chocolate and smiled, heat beginning to make its way back into her body.

"Thank you, Doctor."

"Anything for my bride-to-be," he responded, smiling.

They sat in silence for a bit, Clara sipping contentedly at her hot chocolate. After a while, something occurred to her.

"So," she started, "If I'm going to marry you, what would I be called?" She nudged him playfully with her shoulder. "Mrs. Doctor?"

The Doctor chuckled and shook his head. "You'll be Mrs. Lungbarrow, seeing as that is my last name."

Clara froze, mug halfway to her lips. That was so close to his first name, to his real name.

"Funny," she said. "I thought it would sound more alien."

"Well," the Doctor said, shrugging. "That's what it is translated into English."

"And what's your first name?" Clara had the sudden confidence to ask.

"I'll tell you later. First-" He pushed the mug to her lips, "You have to finish your hot chocolate."

Clara obliged, quickly drinking the rest of the warm, delicious liquid and then placing the mug on the coffee table.

"Warmed up?" the Doctor asked.

Clara nodded. "Now, what's your-" She was interrupted as he leaned forward and kissed her. His hands pried the blanket off of her, then went to her coat.

Clara was frightened by the sudden movement, but she didn't let it show. Curse her fear of his body! It had go away somehow.

'It's just the Doctor,' she told herself. 'Just the Doctor. Only him. Nobody else.'

He didn't take it slow once her coat was off. He yanked her dress over her head, his hands then falling to her back to unclip her bra. She leaned back against the sofa, breathing out deeply as his lips trailed down her neck.

"Desperate much?" she asked him once her bra was off. His fingers were gently stroking her breasts.

"Regeneration makes my hormones go all wacky," he explained, pinching her nipples slightly. Clara gasped and arched into him. "I didn't think you would mind helping me with that."

Clara shook her head, quickly becoming aroused. "Not at all." Her fear was being driven away, especially when her eyes once again saw the left side of his face. Clear of metal and beautiful, just like the rest of him.

The Doctor knelt on the floor in front of her and pulled off her shoes and leggings. He rubbed her above her panties and she inched closer with a soft moan. The Doctor instantly slid them off at the noise, his fingers back and unhindered by clothing.

"This is the best New Year's ever," Clara breathed, leaning her head back against the sofa and closing her eyes.

"I would have to agree with that." The Doctor came up and started trailing kisses all over her swollen belly.

"He doesn't know what we're up to, does he?" Clara asked with a giggle, kind of curious.

"Not at all. He just knows that he loves the both of us." The Doctor pressed his ear to her stomach, tears in his eyes. "He's glad that his daddy's back."

"And so am I," Clara said, smiling. "Now come and give the mummy a kiss."

The Doctor did as she said, leaning over her and kissing her passionately on the lips, dipping his tongue in to explore her mouth. Clara gave a pleased sigh against his lips. His hands were gently playing with her breasts, squeezing and stroking.

He pulled away and began to lower himself between her legs. Clara shook her head.

"Clothes off, Clever Boy."

"As you wish m'lady," he said jokingly, standing and pulling off his jacket. The rest of his clothes followed suit.

Clara couldn't help staring at him. It had been a long time since she'd seen her Doctor like this. The last time she had done this had been with Mr. Clever. That had to be changed.

The Doctor came up to her and Clara spread her legs wide for him, positioning herself so that he had a good vantage point that wouldn't be made awkward by her large belly.

"You sure, Clara?" he asked. "I mean, you're not scared anymore?"

Clara quickly shook her head, lust turning her skin hot. Why was he making her wait? She wanted to jump on him and force him to take her now.

"Tell me in words, Clara." He looked concerned. He wanted to know that he wasn't forcing her into this.

"I'm not scared and I really need you to shag me right now." Clara wiggled her hips in what she hoped was an enticing fashion.

The Doctor chuckled, coming to stand between her legs. He pulled them up to rest on his hips.

"Aright then, Clara Oswald. I will do as you request."

Clara gripped his wrists tightly as he slowly entered her, stretching her and filling her in the most wonderful of ways. She moaned once he was all the way there, working her hips upwards to get the most of it. He moaned too, and then the thrusting commenced.

Clara had never had better sex. They both put their best efforts into it. It almost felt like she had to show him how much she loved him and he had to do the same. This was definitely the best way to do it.

In the middle of all the moaning and yelling, the Doctor began to sing. It wasn't really singing, but it still sounded like music. It was soft, yet it held a sort of exotic power. There were words that she didn't understand, beautiful things that were alien in nature. It was lulling and beautiful, like the sweetest music she had ever heard. She closed her eyes and let herself fall into his voice.

The Doctor leaned over her and the strange language turned into a whisper. He uttered one word before kissing her ear, one word she could understand.

"I just told you my name," he said, his voice filled with pleasure and love. "I just granted you with my name."

Clara didn't know how to respond. She knew his name! He had told it to her! She was sure that her tongue and vocal chords would have tied themselves into knots had she tried to say it, but it stayed in her mind, retained itself in that beautiful language that she knew must be Gallifreyan. She had known it in another lifetime. Maybe she could learn it again.

The Doctor was suddenly in her mind, a gentle, wonderful sensation that sent her body shaking. She was still enduring the tortuous pleasure he was giving her. She had promised herself that she would until his release.

'I love you, Clara,' his voice spoke in her head.

'I love you, Doctor,' she responded, knowing that he would hear her thoughts.

Clara could feel everything he was feeling, and he could do the same with her. In a breathtaking moment that nearly knocked her unconscious, it was done. The Doctor flopped down onto the couch next to her, breathing heavily and smiling.

Once again:

'I love you, Clara.'

'I know you do, Doctor. I love you too.'

His fingers stroked over the ring on her finger, the ring that felt so right there.

'Are you happy?'

'Of course I'm happy, silly. You don't even have to ask. You're in my head.'

'I just wanted to hear it from you.'

'Then yes, I'm happy. I'm the happiest I've ever been.'

The Doctor smiled widely, then came forward and kissed her.

'I'm happy too.'


End file.
